


Game of Virtues

by FluffyMCFluffers



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Too many characters to tag so I just tagged the important ones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2020-03-08 13:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18895387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyMCFluffers/pseuds/FluffyMCFluffers
Summary: The nine houses of Westeros were the pillars of their own regions. And the Iron Throne was the globe between it all. Each pillar was held together by one of the sacred virtues. But these mysterious gifts were far more a curse than a blessing.N/: This AU won't exactly be in order, so expect some chapters to just be all over the place. I mostly write this AU when my creative juices are flowing.





	1. The Winter Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, Lyanna survives labor, marries Robert, and becomes Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She raises her son Aegon and the Targ kids: Viserys and Daenerys.  
> Everything happy and dandy until a terrible tragedy falls upon Kings Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place Pre-GOT  
> Edit 11/14/19: Jons real name has been changed from Aegon to Aemon as it’s getting irritating to tell him apart from Elias son, also Aegon.

It was much warmer in King’s Landing, Lyanna noted.

She saw the sun practically every day, unlike in Winterfell; the sun was barely seen there. But she much enjoyed it. Despite not being her home, it was her duty as Queen to stay in the Red Keep. But even now, after eight years, she still couldn’t comprehend it.

How she started as nothing but a lady of Winterfell, and now the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Lyanna expected that after marrying Rhaegar, they’d take refuge in Dragonstone. They’d get married and raise a child together.

Oh how wrong she was.

Instead, her sixteen year old self was put in a tower, alone with no Maester. And no husband.

Rhaegar had decided to leave Lyanna in the Tower of Joy, far away from the War. But he never returned. Instead of the silver haired man coming in to greet her, she saw her silver eyed brother coming in with a sword thrice in hand.

Lyanna lied on her birthing bed, blood covering the damp sheets. The wet nurse brought her beloved newborn, Aegon, to her arms. Miraculously, the birth didn’t cause Lyanna so much damage that she could die. So, she still had a couple more years for her.

But luck seemed to vary after that. After the war, when the Mad King was finally dethroned and gone, Robert Baratheon ruled as the Realm’s new King. And Lyanna would be it’s new Queen.

The wedding was a quick affair, thank the Gods. That day, she was cloaked with the colors of House Baratheon and crowned with gold upon her head. She wasn’t necessarily happy about, but if it meant that Robert would spare her son, then Lyanna would oblige.

Her first night with him was surprisingly decent. Despite her worries, Robert did not force himself upon her. Her respected her boundaries and the fact that she had given birth not too long ago. But even after that, she would still feel discomfort around him. She was to be given as his Lady, and now she was his Queen.

Queen. Now that was something she never thought she’d be. And yet her she was, sitting next to the harbor, watching her beloved son playing with his aunt and uncle.

Lyanna had pleaded for Robert to spare the Targaryen children. They were only children, and should not have to endure their fathers sins. But Robert still kept his guard, since they were Targaryens after all. And you never know when they can go mad.

She watched the kids play in the shore, giggling as they reached under the water looking for shells. Lyanna smiled as she noticed Aemon walking towards her.

“Mother, look!” Aemon said “Look what I found!” Lyanna looked down to see Aemon holding a conch shell in his hands. She smiled at him, caressing his dark brown locks.

“It’s beautiful, pup” Lyanna said, smiling “Place it in the basket with the others.”

Aemon placed the conch with the other shells him and Daenerys had collected. They both were having a swell time in the water, while Viserys simply ignored them.

“Hey Aemon!” Daenerys called out “I found something!”

Aemon ran up to her, seeing what was in her hands. His eyes widened, as him and Dany looked over to Lyanna.

Viserys joined them in their entorouge “What is it? What did you find?” His tone held slight annoyance

Daenerys opened her palms, revealing what she had refuged. It was a radiant sapphire crystal that glowed in the afternoon sun. The blue color of the gem enchanted the children along with Lyanna.

“Isn’t it pretty?” Daenerys said with a soft smile “It shined just like this when it was in the water”

“Give me that!” Viserys sneered as he snatched the jewel from his sisters hands. He examined it closely and scoffed while throwing it in the air, Aegon catching it in the process. “Why couldn’t you find a ruby or emerald? Those are far more valuable than some stupid sapphire”

“Oh hush you!” Lyanna scolded “Its a lovely jewel, and I doubt Dany will sell it to anyone. She’ll keep it for herself as it’s the right thing to do”

Daenerys looked at the gem in her hands “Actually,” she started “I was thinking of giving it to Aemon as an early gift for his nameday” Daenerys turned to the dark haired boy “I know it’s in three days, but I couldn’t wait”

Aemon took the sapphire in his palms and smiled at Daenerys “Thank you, Dany” He turned to his mother “Mother? Do you think we can get the jeweler to make something out of this?”

Lyanna thought for a moment, a grinned “I believe we can. And I know exactly what it’ll be”

* * *

Aemon sat at the edge of his bed in Winterfell. He had woken up from a nightmare in which he revisited the horrors that had fallen upon Kings Landing but a few months prior. He had gone into Ned and Cat’s chambers to seek comfort from them. They told him that if he had the nightmare again, to think of the fond memories he had. But it wasn’t enough. Now here he was, slumped on his shoulders starting at the chain around his neck.

It held a ring that was in the shape of a dragon head. His mother told him to keep it there so it wouldn’t slip from his finger. She had wanted him to keep it safe, as it was a precious Targaryen heirloom. Even though every great house had a ring to symbolize a holder of one of the sacred virtues. But it held something else. Something far more special than the ring.

Between his fingers, Aemon held the sapphire that Daenerys had refuged on that day and had given to him as a gift. His mother took it to the jewelers to be created into the design she’d picked for him. And on his nameday, he had received it, all while giving his mother a hug.

Aemon felt the sting of tears forming in his eyes. He clutched the jewel tightly while sobbing as quietly as he could so as not to wake Ned and Cat. The jewel that his mother gave to him. The last remnant of her memory. And after the terror of Kings Landing, he no longer was a prince.

Now, he would live the rest of his days as a bastard. Ned Starks bastard: Jon Snow.

He was no longer known as Aemon Targaryen, Fourth of His Name; Heir to the Iron Throne; The Targaryen Wolf; The White Dragon.

His tears fell on the sapphire, which was in the shape of a rose bud, symbolizing the name that the Realm had known him as but will now say in memory of the young boy.

The Winter Rose


	2. Farewells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter doesn't make any sense, don't worry. It'll be explained later on. Some things have changed, such as Robb and Ygritte living and no Jonerys.  
> Don't expect this chapter to be Daenerys friendly, btw.
> 
> ((Also this was originally on Tumblr, but I decided to post it here just cause. May decide to just write the whole thing here and draw fan art of it on my blog))
> 
> Takes place in S8

Jon had so many things running in his head right now. Everything he thought was going right, was going oh so wrong.

Why did he think Daenerys would act kindly to him wanting to tell the Northern lords of his identity? Why did he think she’d ever be happy in the North? Is it because he believed she’d remember all the fond memories they had here? Memories of blue roses and white snow?

No.

Those weren’t her memories. Her memories spoke of silent suffering and cloaked loneliness. Those memories that he knew she held dear to her heart, were now veiled with a deep lust for power and control.

This wasn’t the girl Jon grew up with. This wasn’t Dany. This was Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. She wasn’t the princess of Dragonstone. She was the Mother of Dragons.

He couldn’t understand it. He had treated her as nothing but a sister when he was a child. True, his bond with her wasn’t as strong as with Robb or Arya or any of the Starks, but it was there.

But it didn’t matter. What more could he do now? She chose this path for herself. And even back then, he could tell that she had a sort of resentment towards him. How the Starks and the people had shown him nothing but kindness, but to her, not even a wink.

It wasn’t his problem anymore. Why would he care for someone who had once shown him trust and fondness, but now gave him disrespect and scorn?

Jon didn’t want to think of Daenerys at the moment. After she had to audacity to pull what she pulled last night after the feast. To try and play at his heartstrings as if he was a puppet. Like anyway in all Seven Hells would he even dare to lie to his family. All for her own gain.

He was done with her. So. Done.

* * *

 Jon pulled himself out of his thoughts; he couldn’t be thinking of this now. He had to get on the King’s Road as soon as he could. Despite Sansa being right about the soldiers needing rest, he couldn’t agree with her upfront. He wouldn’t admit it, but he held some sort of fear against Dany. Jon wanted her out of the North as soon as possible, so as to not further anymore damage.

Tormund had decided to take the Freefolk back to the North. The Real North. While this was the North, as Jon had stated, it wasn’t their home.

And it wasn’t Ygritte’s home.

As much as she had grown fond of Jon’s family, she didn’t belong in the South. She was wildling to the bone, after all. And he knew their children would have wildling blood in their veins.

Their children.

Jon smiled fondly as he looked at Gilly, feeling the slight bump in her belly when he hugged her. It reminded him of when he found out about Ygritte’s pregnancy. He was scared yes, but happy. However his fear got the better of him. His children were to be born in a war. And their mother, who he knew was a fighter, would be left vulnerable in a place she barely knew. But they fought. Jon fought for the freedom of the North and the protection of his family. Ygritte fought for her unborn children, who she would not leave alone in this world. And together, they won the fight.

Sam held a prideful grin to his face, as was his right. Jon thought back to the oath they had both taken but a couple years back. He thought of the words that had just crossed his mind:

_I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory._

Now here they were: Taking wives and fathering children. Wearing a crown and winning glories. Jon would’ve stayed happy, had it not been for Gilly wanting to name the child after him. He didn’t deserve such honor. Not after the way he’s treated the North and his family. So, he wished it would be a girl.

Jon thought once more. Hopefully, when this was all over, he could live with Ygritte and their daughters…. wherever they went. Whether it was in the Wolf Woods as Robb suggested or beyond the Wall. He went where she went.

As he walked to his horse to begin the journey, Jon heard a familiar whine from beside him. Ghost stood there, bloodied and bruised, staring at his fellow human.

Jon’s face furrowed. His beloved direwolf didn’t belong here. He belonged in the wild where he’d be happier. Jon trusted than Tormund would take care of him, but he held back his sadness. He didn’t want the people seeing him get emotional over some wolf. A pet, as some would call him.

And that’s when Jon’s embarrassment left him.

Jon signaled Ghost to come towards him. At this point, he couldn’t care if the Northerners saw him as weak. If anyone was going to get a proper farewell, it would be Ghost.

Jon remembered when he found Ghost in the woods. He was so small, the runt of the litter. Now here he stood, as tall as a horse. He was no runt, but now a beast. Jon lifted up his gaze to Ghost, placing his hands beneath his snout.

“I’m going to miss you, boy” he said, noticing the slight bump building in his throat “You’ll be safe at the Wall. It’s-“ Jon paused, finding it difficult not to break in front of all the townspeople

“It’s where you belong” Ghost whimpered a bit, nuzzling Jon, who hushed him softly

“I know. I know, I don’t want to leave you either. But it’s for the best” Jon was nearly on the verge of tears. He shouldn’t be crying over a wolf. But that was the thing. Ghost was so much more than that. He was his other half. A part of him.

“You’ve been so good, boy” Jon smiled, a smile more real than ever “You protected Ygritte when I wasn’t there to and you’ve stayed by my side no matter what”

Ghost’s tail wagged a little. Hearing praise from his ‘papa’ made him happier than hunting a fresh meal in the field.

“We’ll be together again, I promise” Jon laid his head on Ghost’s and then rubbed his nose with his. It was something he did with the wolf in private as a means to show affection.

Jon got on his horse and went on his way. He was leaving behind all of this: his family, his friends, his home. All for some southern Queen who could burn it all down in one simple command.

But Jon felt somewhat at ease. After all his farewells, he knew what he was going to do. If he survived, he knew where he was going and what he was going to be. He finally knew who he was.

He was a Targaryen by blood, but a Stark by heart.

And nothing was going to change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, wow, I did NOT expect this to get so popular so quick😅 Seriously, I thought it would only get a couple of views, but WOW. 200 views in a DAY. I’m honestly impressed and even a bit flattered. But then again, the fandom needs to cope after the finale😆
> 
> Also, if you wanna know my thoughts on it, I’m fine with the finale. All I cared about was that Dany was killed off, my girl Sansa is Queen, and Ghost got a pat from Jon. But it’s probably cause I read the leaks, so that’s why I wasn’t surprised by it😂


	3. The Lions and Their Cubs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, the Lannisters own lions. This is a chapter telling how they got them.  
> I’d like to think in this universe, animal relationships are important. They’re not just brushed off as just pets like some *ahem* writers put them out to be.  
> So expect some chapters with direwolves, lions, dragons, and *gasp* a kraken?! Have I said too much?😅
> 
> Takes place Pre-GOT

Tywin Lannister was a man to be feared, that much was known. His presence alone was enough for an entire hall of men to stand in silence and listen to this proud lion roar. The Warden of the West was currently at a matter of business with the lords of the Westerlands.

His three children: Cersei, Jaime, and Tyrion were all waiting out in the halls of the Golden Tooth where Tywin had been sent to resolve the matter. Jaime and Tyrion sat side by side, while Cersei stood by the door, listening to her father’s every word.

“Why are you still standing over there?” Jaime called to his sister “A political meeting is no place for children”

“Shush!” Cersei said, hushing Jaime “I’m trying to listen! Unlike you, I actually pay attention to what father has to say. You might learn something from it”

“Well sure. Learn that father could never loosen up when he was a child”

Tyrion snickered alongside Jaime, earning a nasty stink eye from Cersei

“Unlike you, I actually listen to father. Properly” Cersei sneered “I’m sure if you’ve remembered, but there’s a reason father has us practice every day with our virtue”

“Oh of course, I remember. I especially remember the scrapes on my knees I earned afterwards”

“And don’t forget about that one time you got a cut lip and battered knuckles” Tyrion said, addressing Cersei not so subtly

Cersei simply scoffed at her imp brother “Like you would ever know or understand what it’s like to live with such power”

“And I do not wish to know” Tyrion said “I think will all those bruises, it shows that your place should be in the court and not the field”

“We’re not meant to use them for fighting” Cersei snapped back “The eldest child holds The Dusk and we’re learning how to control them. Not for petty fights, but for survival”

“Perhaps fighting and survival are more or less in the same context” Tyrion said

Jaime simply sat idly by, watching his siblings argue. For a child of eight years old, Tyrion knew how to use his words cleverly. Sometimes, he even sounded smarter than his fifteen year old sister.

The sound of chairs pushing in and footsteps were heard, and Cersei moved from the doors as they opened. Men walked out of the room, with Tywin coming out last.

“Were you waiting for an invitation to the meeting?” Tywin said, looking down at his daughter “Or have you been missing my lessons that much?”

Cersei didn’t answer, and instead followed her father along with Jaime and Tyrion.

“Father, can we go to the marketplace? Just for a bit?” Cersei asked

“And what would you hope to find there? A new dress for your closet?” Tywin said, never looking over his shoulder

Cersei scoffed at that “No, I could just get the tailors back home to make one for me”

Jaime stepped in “I believe what Cersei’s trying to say, Father, is that she saw something in the marketplace that peaked her interest”

Tywin stopped in his tracks, and turned to his children. He sighed deeply “We’ll stop at the marketplace for a moment, and you can use your money to get… whatever you considered special enough to be in your delicate hands”

* * *

The Lannisters stopped their horses at the marketplace in the Golden Tooth. It was rowdy and all the stands were full of food, cloth, or steel. Tywin offered Cersei gold coins that he had in his saddle.

“Don’t think I’ll be the one paying for it. Now go on, show us what was so eye catching that you had to stop me on this endeavor of mine”

Cersei rolled her eyes, walking towards the stand she had seen while on horseback. Jaime and Tyrion followed her, not knowing what she was doing.

“Did she secretly drink wine while on the way here?” Tyrion asked Jaime. The older boy simply shrugged, walking behind Cersei who stopped at a stand with a large pen in it. It held a litter of kittens, each piling up on each other. The Lannisters stared at the cats, with the male members eyeing Cersei in a not-so-fond way.

“Cats?” Jaime said “That’s what you thought was so amazing? Cats that father could buy in Lannisport?”

“No, you idiot!” Cersei said, grabbing Jaime’s arm and pointing behind the kittens “Look behind there! Don’t you see them?”

“See what?” Jaime turned his head, tarting to catch a glimpse of what she was looking at.

Cersei scoffed frustratingly. She walked up to the salesclerk “Sir, could you open these gates for me and my family? I’d like to make a purchase for your finest felines”

“But my lady?” The salesclerk said, easy with his words “The creatures you speak of are right before your very eyes. Wouldn’t you like to purchase them? They come at a good price”

“I don’t want to buy any of these cats” Cersei said “They’re boring. The ones I saw are all the way in the back. Open these gates or I’ll have your stand removed”

The salesclerk hesitated, but opened the gates for Cersei. She walked into the pen, ignoring all the kittens begging for her attention. Instead, she strolled pass them and stopped to where her prize was. Three felines lay together: one black, another white, and the last cream.

“These are ones that I saw” Cersei said to her father “They’re not ordinary cats. Their-“

“Lion cubs” Tyrion finished for her “The white one appears to be a hrakkar. They’re only found across the Narrow Sea where the Dothraki live”

“I want one” Cersei stated “A lion will be perfect for the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms”

“You’re not Queen yet, young lady” Tywin said “And a lion would be far too dangerous to keep in a confined space. What could these cubs bring to the table that would be of any use to us?”

“What if…?” Jaime stepped in “They were to be trained?”

Tywin turned to his eldest son “What are you suggesting?”

“What if we took all three of the cubs, one for each of your children, and they were trained to be guards. Think about it, there are people out there who want to steal our virtue. The lions could protect Casterly Rock if someone were to steal The Dusk from me or Cersei”

Tywin thought for a moment. Jaime had a point. The Dusk was the pillar of Casterly Rock, and if someone were to steal it, they’d need another pillar to hold the castle in place. Lions were perfect for the Rock. And they’d provide the best security, more so than regular knights or guards.

“You’ll make sure stay fed and well trained. I will not have rampant pets under my roof” Tywin said, walking out of the pen while the children grabbed the cubs. Cersei grabbed the black one, Jaime the white one, and Tyrion the cream one.

Cersei gave the coins to the salesclerk, and climbed atop her mount alongside the other Lannisters. She looked down at the black cub, and smiled “Your name will be Everan. You’ll be the most feared lion in all of Westeros, and men shall tremble at your feet”

The cub now named Everan simply stared at his new owner, not knowing that what she said would become true in the years to come.

* * *

While on their journey back to Casterly Rock, Tywin insisted that the cubs be put through their first test. A test to see how each lion would survive on their own.

“But they’re only babies” Tyrion said “They won’t be able to wander out there on their own”

“They won’t be alone” Tywin said “We’ll be right here behind them, observing to see what kind of training they’ll have to endure”

The cubs were dropped from the children’s arms and walked aimlessly around the fields. Everan snarled at his younger siblings, and lead the pack with pride of that of a king.

Cersei held her head high and smirked proudly “It appears I’ve picked right cub. Everan may be young, but he holds himself like a true pack leader”

The white cub, instead of backing down, snarled back at Everan and ran through the grass carelessly.

“He seems a bit reckless” Jaime said “But my cub seems to hold his ground quite well. He’ll be as fearless as the Rhoynar and the First Men” He stopped for a second, and then his eyes lit up “Hmmm, perhaps Rohar would be a good name for him. To remind the people of where his strength comes from”

Tywin looked at the cubs. This test seemed to be working well for the first two, but the last lion was having trouble catching up. The cream one was nearly at the heels of the horses they were riding, barely making an effort to catch up to Everan and Rohar.

“She doesn’t seem to be moving much” Tyrion said, looking over his horses head to watch the lion walk “There’s something wrong with her”

“If she can’t learn to make a move, she’ll be left in the dirt while her brothers roam the world” Tywin said, as he signaled on of the guards to come up

The guard grabbed the sheath of his sword and struck the cub, making it tumble on the ground. The lion could be heard giving a yelp of disapproval, and the dirt became red with the blood of her wound.

“You hurt her!” Tyrion yelled, getting off his horse and grabbing the cub “She’s bleeding! Why would you do that?!”

“Because she needs to learn” Tywin said “If she’s going to protect the Rock, then she needs to be prepared for any threats. She can’t be walking aimlessly around the castle while a stranger walks into its walls”

Tyrion looked at his father with hatred, but stopped as he turned to the lion in his hands. The sheath has struck her face, leaving a scar on her face that went from her left eye to the bottom of her right cheek. The wound was reassuringly not deep. Has the sword gotten deeper, the cub would’ve not have been able to get on her feet or make her cry of anguish.

“I’ll take care of her” Tyrion said to his father “Whatever’s wrong with her, I’ll try and fix it. She’ll protect Casterly Rock proudly, I promise. You may not see it, but she’ll be the strongest and biggest of them all. I know it”

A scoff could be heard from Cersei, but Tywin paid no mind to it. Tyrion was so determined to keep his new pet, and Tywin had no interest in starting an argument with the dwarf.

Tywin turned to his other children “You too, grab the other cubs. We’re done with their tests. For now”

Jaime and Cersei grabbed Everan and Rohar, while Tyrion climbed back onto his horse. The female cub could be heard purring into Tyrion’s chest, her wound no longer bleeding. The cut would affect her sight on her eye greatly, but it wouldn’t stop her from living.

Tyrion looked down at the cub, smiling fondly “I shall name you Cira. You will wear your name proudly, and you will wear it like armor. You’ll be stronger than any of the First Men or even any of the Unsullied across the Narrow Sea”

Cira looked up at Tyrion, licking his face lovingly. Tyrion giggled softly “You are my cub. And I’ll be your momma. Not your master or your owner, but your momma and your friend. And you shall be mine. From this day, until my last day”

Cira settled into Tyrion’s lap, accepting that this boy was her home. And she’d do anything to protect it. The same could be said for Everan and Rohar, who would make their owners proud.

Very proud.


	4. A Fire Growing Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said in Chapter 2, Ygritte survives but she and Jon separate for a while due to the whole betrayal thing.  
> Someone commented saying that they wanted to see more of Jon and Ygritte’s kids, so now you know how they came to be!
> 
> Takes place in S5

Ygritte’s eyes fluttered open, the only light in the room being that of the windows of Castle Black. After the fight, the crows had chained her up and locked her away. They’d done the same thing with Tormund, and the other Freefolk who survived.

She had expected to die in the fight, to be struck down by a passing crow. And one nearly did.

Olly had a bow in his hand, ready to strike Ygritte down. But Jon wouldn’t let him. Before the arrow could hit her, Jon had pushed her aside and he took it for her. It had only hit him in the shoulder, but he was wounded enough to stop fighting.

But Ygritte wasn’t greatful, she was angry. Why? Why had he done this? He had betrayed her, and left her alone in her sorrow. She nearly tackled him, trying to drive the arrow further. But he restrained her.

“It’s done!” He had said “It’s over, no more!”

She wanted to take that arrow. She wished that arrow had pierced her heart. But stupid, brave Jon Snow wouldn’t let her. And she was angry because of it.

* * *

It had been months since she’d last seen Jon. After the fight, they never talked. Never even made eye contact. She had heard the crows had chosen him to become Lord Commander. Ygritte smiled a bit fondly of that. He had always been a leader, so it would be fitting that his brothers had chosen him to be in the front lines.

She wouldn’t say it out loud, but she wanted to see him. She wanted to see his pretty eyes and his pretty hair, and his pretty smile. And she wanted to hear his pretty voice. But he didn’t have time for any of that. He was busy leading his brothers, and she had heard that he was heading to Hardhome to retrieve the rest of the Freefolk. Ygritte wished to go, to see her beloved again, but she couldn’t.

She had recently felt something. Something inside of her. The last few days had been a living hell for her. She’d experienced terrible nausea, she hadn’t bled for six moons, and her breasts had swollen.

While neither Jon nor Tormund were around, the Onionman had stayed behind with Stannis Baratheon. He had taken notice of her symptoms and, since Maester Aemon had passed not to long ago, had taken her to see the Red Woman.

Ygritte sat in one of empty chairs in the room along with Melisandre and Sir Davos. She waited for a response from the priestess.

“Well?” Davos said “What’s wrong with the lass?”

Melisandre turned to him, a glimmer in her eyes “Yes. The spearwife holds a child. Swelling of the breasts, and no blood for six moons. It is clear that Jon Snow has put life inside of her”

“And this ‘life’ that he has provided,” Davos added “How long till it comes into the world?”

Ygritte sat there in shock. Jon had gotten her pregnant and not even he knew. Oh Gods, not even he knew. What would he say? He had talked about how he didn’t want a bastard child, and now this. She knew he wouldn’t be happy, at all.

“Spearwife” Melisandre said, snapping Ygritte out of her trance “Come here and look into the fire”

“Why?” Ygritte asked

“The Lord of Light has shown me his vision, and he wants me to share it with you” Melisandre reached her hand out

Ygritte hesitated for a moment, but walked towards her when Davos nodded. The red woman guided Ygritte to the fireplace, and her eyes focused on the flames.

“Now, tell me. What do you see?” Melisandre asked

The spearwife stared blankly at the fire, squinting her eyes to see what the priestess wished to show her

“All I see is fire. Nothing more”

“That is not what the Lord wants you to see. He has shown me more than that” Melisandre lifted her chin with her finger “The Lord of Light has shown me snow, and now he shows me fire. But it not much what he wants you to see, but what he wants you to hear”

Ygritte turned to her, but looked back into the fire

“Listen” Melisandre never looked up “What you hear?”

At first, Ygritte heard nothing. But then, she did. It was faint, but clear.

“Wolves” she said “I hear wolves”

“Yes, wolves. Their song rings through the fields like bells. And the horn blows while the wolves howl. The Lord of Light hears their song, like that of the dragons” Ygritte felt Melisandre’s hand on her belly “You have a fire growing inside of you. A great fire, that will make the ice melt and the flames tremble. You must tell Snow of this, for your children will be dragons in a storm of wolves”

Davos stepped in, but only took a few steps. He didn’t want to intervene too much on the conversation “What you are saying, is that Jon Snow put a litter inside of her? And she is to give birth in only a couple of months?”

“I speak for the Lord of Light, Ser Davos, not the Maester” Melisandre said, stepping away from Ygritte “If she wishes to see her children alive, she will have no part in the battle to come”

“Battle?” Davos said, stopping Melisandre in her tracks “What battle? What are you talking about?”

But the red woman did not answer, she simply walked away. She was at the foot of the door, before turning to face Davos and Ygritte

“Do not fret, spearwife. Your children will live. If, you have no part in the battle to come” And just like that she left, leaving Ygritte in her thoughts. As if telling Jon she was pregnant wasn’t bad enough, now she’d have to tell him she carried a brood of babies inside of her. She wasn’t necessarily a fanatic, but Ygritte wanted to ask the Gods why they’d done this. Why had they given her such a wonderful gift at such a terrible time?

* * *

Davos returned Ygritte to her chambers, since the Freefolk weren’t prisoners anymore. She looked outside to see Jon and Tormund returning from Hardhome, along with more of the Freefolk. Ygritte wanted to go down there, to see Jon again and talk to him. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He’d probably just walk right past her, without saying a single word.

Ygritte had stayed in her room alone, only ever coming out to help the Freefolk settle in. But in the night, she stayed lying in her bed, thinking of what should have been. She thought if her and Jon had stayed in the cave, none of this would’ve happened. They would’ve lived together in peace. And she wouldn’t be so hesitant to tell him of her pregnancy.

If they had stayed in the cave, she’d be thrilled to tell him. She clasp his hands with hers, and tell him he was going to be a father. She imagined how he’d treat her with care and comfort, and how he’d kiss her belly with such love.

If they had stayed in the cave, he’d be at her side right now, caressing her belly and making love to her when she needed it.

If they had stayed in the cave, she wouldn’t be crying. And he wouldn’t be dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is a bit short or rushed, I just want to write other chapters as well. Not that I don’t wanna right more Jongritte, I just felt that it would be too much for one chapter.


	5. The Young Wolf and The Little Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing that I’ve thought of a lot for this AU, is Robb’s arc. He survives too in this, and his story is slightly altered. And also, him and Margaery knew each other and Margaery may or may not have had a slight crush on him....
> 
> ((Also, sorry if it took so long. Me and my lazy ass😑))
> 
> Takes place in S4

The King who lost the North is what they called him. Robb Stark, The Young Wolf. King of the North. 

No. He wasn’t a king. And he wasn’t a wolf. Anymore, that is. A king would not sit idly by and watch his wife and mother be murdered before his eyes. A wolf would not be struck down by a mere arrow. A wolf would not be defeated by a lion.

Tywin Lannister had orchestrated the Red Wedding along with Walder Frey. He killed Talisa and his mother, but cruelly let Robb live. With Roose Bolton betraying him, and his banner-men killed, Robb was at the Lannisters mercy. He was stripped of any honor he had left, and to be put on display for all of King’s Landing to see.

Once arriving, all the people came to see the Young Wolf, with no crown and no glory. They yelled slurs at him, and some even threw mud at his face. But Robb didn’t fight back. There was no point. These people didn’t know what happened behind closed doors. They didn’t know how Ned Stark was beheaded on false charges, or how Joffrey Baratheon wasn’t a real Baratheon. They simply believed whatever came out of the councils mouths.

He remembered how all the people at court watched him: a king now turned into a mere boy. His head hung low, but he felt Joffrey’s pompous smirk look down upon him. He could feel Cersei looking at him with the same stupid smile that Joffrey, and maybe even Tywin, bore.

There was no point in fighting. Not anymore. The Boltons were now the Lords of Winterfell, and the Northerners must’ve felt shame when they heard that Robb had fallen. Robb had been put in a cell, and the Lannisters must’ve been feasting at his defeat. He imagined Joffrey at his wedding, wielding a sword and chopping Robb’s head off. Joffrey would probably then serve it to poor, sweet Sansa and laugh as she cried tears of sorrow.

Robb would sit in the cell, eyes staring blankly at the Wall. Ever since they’d put him there, he wouldn’t say a single word. And when the day of Joffrey’s wedding came, they put a collar around Robb’s neck. Gods, he looked like a dog. They downgraded him and humiliated him. Chained and defiled him.

But Robb didn’t fight back.

He took the abuse, he felt that it was necessary. After all, he had failed in his attempts to achieve northern independence. 

The wedding was well planned, if he was being honest. Everyone had come dressed at their finest. Probably wanted to show their wealth, all while Robb was dressed in dirty clothes full of mud and shit. 

When they brought him out, Robb could hear the people whispering. And then they clapped when the dwarfs came into the scene. They made Robb a dummy in their act, the dwarfs hitting him with clubs while everyone, including Joffrey, laughed.

When he dropped down, Robb turned to see Sansa looking at him, her brows furrowed and her eyes held deep pain. Her eyes looked like their mothers, and her hair was redder than before. He moved his gaze to the Lannisters, who looked at him with smirks on their faces. Joffrey was laughing. Of course this was funny to him. 

And then Robb stopped. His eyes met the eyes of the Queen. 

Margaery Tyrell.

He remembered when he was younger and his father would go to Highgarden on meetings. He sit in the gardens with her Jon, and Theon and they’d all pick flowers from the bushes. All the order young girls would call her “pig-face”. But he never understood why. She was a pretty young lass, but now. 

Oh gods, was she beautiful. He hair fell onto her shoulders so delicately, her skin looked so pure and smooth, and her eyes were focused on him. Solely him. For a moment, he felt at ease. The laughter of the people died down in his ears, and just looking at Margaery made him feel a calmness he never thought he could feel again. To see someone he knew, a friend, after so many years. 

But his peace was cut short when one of the dwarfs pulled at the chain on his neck, yanking him off the floor. He was put on his feet, and pushed to the side. Joffrey was busy being against his uncle, Tyrion, until Margaery cut in to announce the pie. The last thing Robb remembered before he ran through the streets of Kings Landing, was King Joffrey take a sip of his wine and clutch his throat. 

The Kingsguard chased Robb, before grabbing one of the horses and riding to the one place he deemed safe for now: Highgarden.

* * *

The guards asked for Robb’s name and his reason for coming to Highgarden. He told them his name, and that’s all they needed to know. He had been riding for a couple of days, and he was surprised that the Kingsguard hadn’t been sent to seek him out.

Now, he sat in one of the vacant rooms in the castle. His body was slumped on the edge of the bed. Throughout these past few days, he said nothing. He barely ate, or barely slept. He didn’t want to do anything. He just wanted everything to drown out. To disappear. 

He heard a knock on the door, but didn’t say anything. It opened, and a guard came inside saying “Lord Stark. Lady Margaery is here to see you”

Robb then turned his head, looking at Margaery, who stared at him with a gentle smile. The guard left the room, and the two were alone in silence.

She walked towards him, and sat on the chair in front of him.

“I see you took refuge in Highgarden” Margaery said, her voice soft and low

But Robb said nothing. He looked at her, not saying a word

Margaery sighed “I heard what happened to you and your family. You shouldn’t blame yourself, it wasn’t your fault”

“Yes it was” Robb finally said. His voice was lower than hers “If I never beheaded Lord Karstark, I wouldn’t have lost the war. If I had just married one of Walder Frey’s daughters, the Red Wedding would’ve never happened”

Margaery took his hand and caressed it with her thumb

“I just wanted to marry for love. I just wanted to go home and be with my family”

“Robb, what’s done is done. You can’t change what you did. You chose to marry your wife, and you chose to behead Lord Karstark-”

“-But I chose wrong” Robb interrupted “I made impulsive decisions, and I paid for it”

Margaery stared at the man in front of her. Robb was always a boy to never give up, to stand up when the time was right. And here he was: completely hopeless and broken. His blue eyes that held a spark of hope, now stared at the floor with emptiness and despair.

Margaery got up from her seat and kneeled in front of Robb, holding his hands tightly “Robb I want you to listen to me, loud and clear. Yes, you made impulsive decisions. Yes, breaking your promise to Walder Frey and beheading Lord Karstark were not wise resolves. But sometimes, we have to make wrong choices so that we learn and better ourselves. It’s in our nature”

But Robb simply pulled away from her, not wanting to listen to her judgement. She followed him suite, and grabbed his hand “You may not want to listen to me, but you have to. If you want to survive this world and return home, let me help you”

“Why bother” Robb said, tugging away from her “I’m sure you’d have a more pleasant time preparing to be Queen instead of helping the enemy”

Margaery simply sighed and pulled Robb into her arms, tightly holding him “Robb, you are my most dearest friend, you know that. Please allow me to aid you so you can return home”

“But I can’t. Winterfell is taken over by the Boltons” Robb said. His head was on Margaery’s shoulder

“Then at least let me return you to the North” Margaery whispered 

Robb thought for a moment, embracing the sweet, delicate smell of the woman hugging him. She smelled of roses, and cinnamon. While returning to Winterfell may be a challenge, the North knows no King but the King in the North whose name is Stark. Robb sighed softly, and for the first time in months, he smiled contently.

“Alright”

* * *

Margaery sat on the edge of the bed. Night streamed across the Realm, and the chirping of crickets could be heard alongside the crackling of the fire. She turned to see Robb in a deep sleep. Poor boy must’ve have restless nights after what had happened to him, and now he slept in a bed instead of inside a cell.

The Little Queen smiled fondly. She crawled up on the bed next to Robb, careful not to wake him. Margaery examined him closely: he had grown to be very handsome, she admitted. His sun-kissed hair had formed soft curls, and she gently ran her fingers in them. 

She wouldn’t say it, never to a living soul, but she was fond of Robb when she was a young girl. In a more than friends sort of way. He had a trait that made him simply irresistible in the eyes of women. And she had fallen head-over-heals for him.

But that was then, and this is now. Now, she had other priorities. As much as it pained her, Robb would not bring her the Seven Kingdoms. He had no interest in the Iron Throne.

_He would make a good king_ , Margaery thought, _An honorable man, he is_

Her fingers threaded in his locks, gently retrieving soft curls. Margaery wished she could see his eyes. Those eyes of moon-glow that held such beauty, no flower nor star could ever compare. 

She sighed deeply. What would it feel like to see those eyes every day? And to be held to those strong, bold arms? 

No, she couldn’t. She shouldn’t. Margaery felt herself leaning closer. No, no, this wasn’t right. This wasn’t what she wanted. He’d never give her Westeros, never in a million years. She didn’t stop, his breath tickling her nose.

What could the wolf give her that the stag could never? What sort of contentment could Robb Stark bring her that Tommen Baratheon could not?

She froze. Her lips were so close to his. He was still asleep, thank the Gods. If he saw her like this, open and vulnerable, what would he say? The future Queen shouldn’t be seen with another man that wasn’t the King. 

Margaery didn’t close the gap. Instead, she moved upwards and kissed Robb on the forehead. She got up from the bed, and out the room to her own chambers. She shouldn’t have done that. That fondness for him, it was years ago. It was merely forgotten about, nothing but the ignorant love of a child. And she was to be wed, so it was clearly wrong. 

All these thoughts ran through Margaery’s head, that she thankfully didn’t notice Robb’s smile once she left. Otherwise, it wouldn’t feel so wrong.

But oh, so right.


	6. Ice and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Aegon flashback, in which we learn of the White Walkers and their natural enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place Pre-GOT  
> Edit 11/14/19: Jons real name has been changed from Aegon to Aemon as it’s getting irritating to tell him apart from Elias son, also Aegon.

Jon Arryn had been chosen by Robert Baratheon to be his hand. Well, it felt more like being the king’s personal caretaker than being his advisor. The king did not attend council meetings, nor did he seem to be in the public eye much. He preferred to be in his chambers, drinking and waiting for his beloved Queen wife to join him in his solitude.

But lovely Queen Lyanna Stark would not let her King husband indulge in his sweet wine. Lord Arryn would sometimes see her grace tugging at her lovers ear, while he’d groan in disapproval as she sat him down in front of his grand council.

Most advisors would think of this as unruly behavior and even irresponsible, but the king was no secret to being unruly. He had no interest in ruling the kingdom he had usurped. It was a shame, really. Despite the king being nothing but a drunken fool most days, his Queen was far from being her husband.

Young Lyanna was all Northern, Lord Arryn had noticed. While Robert stayed in his quarters drinking away his responsibilities, Lyanna took on her duties headfirst. She had spoken with Lord Arryn, and was even planning to go to Dorne and make peace with Prince Doran Martell in the coming months.

Lord Arryn admired her grace for being somewhat benevolent, despite knowing practically nothing of politics. She was a lady of the North, who was retrieved but a few years ago by her beloved brother after a silver haired prince had left her in a tower that touched the clouds. Her health had become somewhat fragile after that day, but as the years faded away, the she-wolf had matured into a strong and ever powerful Queen.

The Wolf Queen, as the people so proudly called her.

* * *

As the council had finished a meeting, Lord Arryn went to the study where Prince Aemon awaited him. Lord Arryn was responsible for teaching Aegon how to properly run and rule the kingdoms. And he’d need as much mentoring as possible, since the people could be unpredictable when a new monarch comes into play. He’d have to learn how to resolve the greatest of issues, how to negotiate with the great houses, and how to make decisions that will benefit both the lowly and the elite.

However, these matters weren’t the only ones they spoke about. It wasn’t always about politics or alliances, but also tales and histories of the Seven Kingdoms. Sometimes, the other Targaryen children, Viserys and Daenerys, would accompany them in their lessons. However, they never actually indulged themselves in the books that Lord Arryn would pick out. Viserys would grab any and every book that spoke only of Targaryen rule, so that his sister could know their ancestors better, as he would say.

Now, on this particular day, Lord Arryn had retrieved a special book for a special lesson. Aemon sat on the edge of his seat, quite literally, watching as Lord Arryn grabbed a chair and placed it next to him.

“So, Little Dragon” Lord Arryn said “As you know, in just a couple of months your mother and I shall be traveling to Dorne to make peace with House Martell. Which means I’ll be away for a while, as will your mother”

“Yes” Aemon said meekly 

“You will be in the custody of King Robert and his advisors” Lord Arryn said “However, I advise you to stay away from them, especially The Spider and Littlefinger. And, your mother has instructed me to keep you in the Red Keep where you shall be safe”

Aemon’s shoulders slumped. He sighed disapprovingly “Why can’t Mother just let me go out into the streets for a while? I promise I won’t wander so far”

“It’s too dangerous, Little Dragon” Lord Arryn said, opening the book he had rummaged and flipping through the pages “You may be the crown prince, but what happens if one day the people see you in the city without any guards or shields? I can promise you, they won’t be so merciful to you just because you’re a child”

“But the people love me” Aemon said “I’ve seen them waving and smiling at me. Some of the peasant children even wanted to play with me”

Lord Arryn looked up from the page he had stopped on “They may love you now, Little Dragon, but once you make a single slip, they won’t be as kind”

Aemon stayed silent. He had practically begged his mother to take him to Dorne with her. He was tired of smelling shit and cum from his window, and wanted to see the land where Lady Ashara and Princess Elia had lived. His mother had spoken of them quite fondly, almost as if they were close friends or at least acquaintances. Lyanna never spoke too much of them, though, as her voice would be filled with sorrow and Aemon never liked seeing his mother sad. So, Ashara and Elia’s names were hardly ever spoken.

“Now,” Lord Arryn said, snapping Aemon out of his trance “Why don’t we leave this conversation to your mother, and you and I will return to your teachings, alright?”

Aemon hesitated for a moment, but nodded his head in agreement “Alright”

Lord Arryn smiled before returning to the book they had to read. He looked over to Aemon “Tell me, does your mother ever read you stories before bedtime?”

“Yes, Lord Arryn” Aemon replied 

“What kind of stories?”

“Well, she’d read me stories of the great kings, and of the Children of the Forest”

“Ah yes,” Lord Arryn said faintly “Tales of the many such as Brandon the Builder, the Northern King of House Stark or Aegon Targaryen, the Dragonlord who brought the Seven Kingdoms to their knees. Many children your age have had their stories told to them. But, have you’ve been told of other tales?”

“What kind?” Aemon asked

Lord Arryn pointed to the book. Aemon looked down at the page; there was an illustration of corpses, it seemed. The men’s bodies looked like glass, they held spears that appeared to be made of the finest crystal, and their eyes held sparkling, blue stars that could leave a man cold. 

However, the corpses weren’t the only creatures the drawing depicted. Thecorpses appeared to be pointing their spears at other undead. Except they didn’t look at all like the pale skinned demons. No, these figures were like molten stone. Their hands were sharp claws that all looked like small, black swords ready to strike you down. They seemed to maneuver on their hind legs, charging at the corpses. Their mouths revealed long, jagged teeth and their jaws opened up to the tip of their ears. And their blood and eyes seemed to glow a bright, haunting red like that of the Red Wanderer that would fly over the known world.

Aemon didn’t understand why Lord Arryn was showing him such horrid imagery. Surely this wasn’t one of the lessons he intended to teach? And if it was, why on Earth would Aegon need to know such things? 

“Do you know what these creatures are called, young one?” Lord Arryn said, pointing to the milk-skinned bodies. Aemon slowly shook his head

“These are the Cold Gods. They once roamed in The Land of Always Winter, building their kingdom like we built ours. They spoke in an icy tongue, and their armies were constructed on the bodies of dead men. The Cold Gods, however, wanted to grow their colonies. They hunted down the babes of sacrificers, and made them their soldiers”

“Where did they come from?” Aemon asked, clearly invested 

“It is said that the Children of the Forest created them, as a means of defense to stop the First Men from invading. For a time, the Others served. But it wasn’t until one revolted, that the Children were left to fend for themselves”

Aemon turned for a small second to check on Daenerys and Viserys. Viserys was flipping through the pages of the book he had rummaged, while Daenerys looked at Aegon, the story of the Cold Gods grabbing her attention.

“But,” Lord Arryn started “The Cold Gods weren’t the only Gods. The Others had a common enemy, a predator they would battle for dominance over their prey. The Dark Gods, they were called. Shadows that lurked deep beneath the soil, and arose when called upon those they believed were on their moral ground”

“They look like wild dogs...” Daenerys said, her voice trembling softly 

“Yes they do, Little Princess. However, unlike the Cold Gods who hunted men for troops and advantage, the Dark Gods hunted men for survival and sport. The Beyonders, as they were also called, fed off whatever living thing they could find. Whether it was mortals, livestock, greens, or even each other. They never stopped. They were ravenous beasts, who fed off guilty and innocent alike. Sinner or saint, good or evil, it did not matter. The Dark Gods preyed upon everything and anything, and their hunger never quenched”

Aemon could feel his blood rushing, his pulse getting slightly faster and more sporadic. His fingers fidgeted together. 

“Lord Arryn, why are you telling me this?” Aemon stammered “You said you’d help me in ruling the kingdoms. Why would I need something as purposeless as a folktale to keep the peace?”

Lord Arryn placed his hands upon Aemon’s shoulders, towering over the boy

“Believe me, Little Dragon, you will need these certain ‘folktales’ in the long run. I fear this peace that we have all so greatly cherished, will soon come to an end. For Winter is coming, and so are the Cold Gods-”

“-What are you doing?” A familiar voice cut in

The entourage turned to see Queen Lyanna standing at the doorway, her arms crossed against her chest and her expression stern whilst glaring at Lord Arryn.

Lord Arryn quickly got to his feet “Your grace” he said, bowing at her presence

Lyanna walked up to him, her guise never changing “I asked you a question, Jon Arryn. What. Are. You. Doing...?”

“My Queen, I was only informing the prince on important knowledge that will be essential in his rule”

“Essential?” Lyanna jabbed “What you are telling him, my Lord, are mere wives tales that will surely keep him awake for days on end”

Lord Arryn couldn’t tell if the Queen was annoyed or irritated, but he simply lowered his head and said “Forgive me if have troubled you, your grace”

Lyanna hung her head back “I know you mean no ill will, Lord Arryn. However, I sincerely advise you to know that your job is to help my son in being a good king, not to make him wet his own bed”

Aemon snickered a bit at that. He knew his mother’s tone was serious, but he couldn’t help wondering if in her head, she knew that sounded silly. However, once he looked to see his mother eyeing him, his smirk faded.

“Come, my son” Lyanna said, grabbing Aemon’s hand “I think you’ve heard enough ‘lectures’ for today” She motioned for Viserys to grab Daenerys, and they all left, leaving Lord Arryn alone in the study with his thoughts.

* * *

“Mother, why did you get so upset?” Aemon asked “He was only telling me a story, just like how you do every night”

Lyanna stopped dead in her tracks. They were now in the throne room, the sun was shining perfectly in the halls and the pillars looked as if they were made of gold rather than marble.

“I wasn’t getting upset, Aemon” Lyanna sighed “I was just getting a bit uneasy when Lord Arryn started speaking of those.... horrid creatures”

“You talk as if they were real” Viserys cut in “Everyone knows they’re just myths to make children hold their tongues and obey their parents”

Lyanna rolled her eyes “I understand, however I don’t want Aemon knowing of such things. He’s too young, and some people don’t like talking of them, let alone speaking their names”

“But why would I be afraid of things like that?” Aemon mused “I’m not a babe who can’t sleep because of shadows in my room”

Lyanna crouched down to meet her son’s eyes “You’ll have to forgive me, pup. I was only looking after you. I don’t want you coming to my chambers crying because of the things you heard”

“I won’t, Mother. I promise” Aemon said, smiling 

“Good” Lyanna smiled back, and placed a small kiss on the boys head. She got up from her knees and began walking away “Now, if there’s no more issues-“

“-Actually,” Aemon started “Mother, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about something. It’s about me... being king”

Lyanna stopped once again. She turned to Aemon and blinked a couple of times “What about it?”

Aemon hesitated for a moment. He could tell his mother anything, right? 

“Well I’ve been thinking about it and...”

“And...?” Lyanna urged him 

“And I don’t think I want to be king”

Lyanna scoffed “Aemon, don’t be foolish. You’re the crown prince, it’s your responsibility to be the next king”

“But what if I’m no good at being king?” Aemon rebuked “What if the people don’t want to see me on the throne? Lord Arryn said they’d do terrible things to me if I ever made a mistake”

“That’s not true” Lyanna mused “Yes the people can be harsh at times, but they wouldn’t flay you just because you looked at them a certain way”

“Even if you’re right, I wouldn’t be happy” Aemon said “All my life I’ve known nothing but the Red Keep. You say that one day, you’ll take me to see the blue roses in Winterfell-“

“-And I will-“ Lyanna reassured

“-But you’re lying!” Aemon snapped “You’ll never take me to Winterfell. You can’t even let me be alone with Lord Arryn!”

“Because I’m trying to protect you!” Lyanna yelled. Her voice nearly echoed in the room, and she forgot that Viserys and his sister were still present, standing awkwardly next to her. She took a deep breath, and straightened her posture.

“Listen, I understand it’s hard for you to live in a place that’s so familiar it’s maddening. I had to stay in this wretched fortress for most of my days after I had you”

Aemon’s eyes grew “You did?”

“Yes. Robert wouldn’t let me leave our chambers, nor did he leave my side. But after a while, he knew I could take care of myself” She leaned down, and reached out for her son’s hands “We both have a duty to preform, pup. I don’t mean to sound cruel, but no matter how much you whine to the gods, Robert, or even me, it does not matter. You are the heir to the Iron Throne, and nothing will ever change that”

Aemon hung his head in shame. He felt like a fool for snapping at his mother. Instead of thinking rationally and understanding his mother’s feelings, he only thought of how he felt. Like a spoiled little prince.

“And besides, it’s not like I’ll be nagging at you forever. After all, you have a gift that’ll ensure your safety and the safety of others”

Aemon scoffed in a similar fashion to that of Lyanna “As if it’ll every work properly. The last time I tried using The Flame, I nearly burned down the canopy!”

Lyanna chuckled “In time you’ll learn. It’s not easy for the other great houses, so don’t feel so dreary. And besides, you were three. At that age you couldn’t even muster an entire sentence or carry a sword”

Viserys and Daenerys snickered at that. Aemon groaned “Mother...”

“Come along then” Lyanna called “I believe we should get some supper. All these council meetings have left my stomach unattended”

The children followed urgently, however Aemon still had far too many questions. Why did his mother get so worried when Lord Arryn spoke of the Cold Gods? They were only stories, weren’t they? And even if they were real, the Kingsguard would make good work of them. Surely gods weren’t impervious to steel.

* * *

“So, you’re mother actually believed in the White Walkers?” Sam asked. Him and Jon were scrubbing the tables at Castle Black. Once he had spotted Jon Snow, Sam saw some familiarity to a certain Targaryen Wolf. Jon nearly brought a knife to his throat once he mentioned his name. Well, he did. Except it was replaced with his hand.

“She never said” Jon answered “No matter what I did or where I was, my mother always believed someone was after my head”

“Well, she had every right to be cautious” Sam mused “You’re father was Rhaegar Targaryen: a man who brought shame to his family name. Robert despised him. If the Queen hadn’t said anything, who knows what he would have done to you”

Jon stopped scrubbing and looked at Sam “My mother spared me because I was her son. My mother spared Viserys and Daenerys because they were children. Aye, she hated the Targaryens, but she wouldn’t condemn a child and a newborn babe to the fate of their father”

“She sounded like quite the woman” Sam chuckled “I think she might have been a better ruler that Robert. After all, she’s the one who kept Dorne loyal to the crown”

Jon proceeded with his scrubbing, wanting to not say much as he feared others might be listening “I never did ask: how did you know I was Aemon Targaryen?”

Sam smiled and looked at Jon “Well, it was your eyes, of course! They’re the same color as Queen Lyanna’s. The Stark eyes. I don’t think there’s a lot of Northerners who are born with silver eyes”

“They’re grey, not silver”

“Well, there’s not much of a difference, really”

Jon giggled at the statement. People did say Stark eyes were silver, like that of fresh forced steel. 

“You still promise you won’t tell anyone?” Jon said, quietly “I could loose my life for this”

“I swear on all the Gods” Sam promised “You helped me, so now I help you”

Jon smiled. The only true friends he ever had were Robb, Arya, and Daenerys. Not that they counted as much, since they were all family. But having Sam as a friend made Jon happy. 

Happy that perhaps in this dark world, there was still trust and good.

If only the retelling of the Cold and Dark Gods didn’t cloud his mind like fog. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I’m giving the White Walkers a proper backstory. I just don’t like that they’re portraying as heartless monsters that just kill people for no reason. I wanna know their purpose other than ending the world, god dammit!😂


	7. My Wolf, My Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon wakes from the dead, and returns to his woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in S6  
> Edit 11/14/19: Jons real name has been changed from Aegon to Aemon as it’s getting irritating to tell him apart from Elias son, also Aegon.

Nothing. That was all that Jon felt. His eyes were screwed shut, his heart had stopped, but his mind was in a different place. A different world, it seemed. The blades went so deep into his chest, they left gashes that looked as if someone tried to scoop him out.

He couldn’t hear anyone speaking; nor Davos, Tormund or Edd. But he could feel. Jon could feel Ghost’s snout brush against his hand. How much he longed to touch his soul, to tell him that he was alive. But he couldn’t, for his body was still and his mind was lost.

Jon thought how he’d never see the Starks again. He’d never see feisty Arya, or sweet Sansa, or little Rickon. He didn’t know whether Robb was alive or not, and last he heard, Bran had woken from his fall. But now, he’d never see them. He had died in the hands of his brothers, men he thought he could trust.

And then, he felt a hand on his shoulder. A warm hand, with slender fingers and the gentlest of touches. It felt like the hand of a woman.

_Ygritte, he thought_

The wildling had asked to be alone with Jon, and she sat just above his head so that she was staring him down.

Jon could feel her wet tears fall on his cheek, and her forehead against his own. How he wished he could open his eyes to see her beautiful, red hair and her soft, pink lips. He wanted to kiss her, to feel her warmth... and to say he was sorry.

Sorry for leaving her, sorry for just ignoring her instead of just talking to her. Gods, why did he ignore her?

This was his punishment. A fate the gods had planned for him. To be betrayed by his brothers, and left for dead while his beloved suffers. Perhaps he was never meant to help the people. They’d never know his name, his deeds, nor his sacrifices. And they wouldn’t care either. He was a bastard in their eyes, someone never destined for greatness or glory.

To think, he once was to rule over these people. But it was just how Lord Arryn said: make one mistake, and they won’t be as kind. He could imagine their faces when they’d find out about the Wildlings choosing to follow him.

Perhaps the boy in him was still present. Perhaps Jon Snow was never meant to become a man, and instead always be that naive, ignorant boy hidden away in the Red Keep. Yes. Maybe it was best the Seven Kingdoms didn’t have another dragon ruling their land. A mere babe dragon, at that. He was no dragon. Dragons who breathed fire of cold were not real dragons. His wings had been cut off, and scales were instead born fur. What were meant to be eyes of molten gold, were but pools of blood that stirred in the winter snow.

More over, dragons wouldn’t fall for a mere fox. Was that what his beloved was? A fox? Perhaps so. She was swift and cunning like one, and her gorgeous mane could charm any of them. After all, she had succeeded in charming a wolf. Or is he a dragon? Either way, her methods were victorious. The red fox was truly beautiful, as breathtaking as the clear waters in Tarth. The way her hair rippled like embers, and the simplest touches could almost burn the tips of your fingers.

Jon could see her. In all the dark clouding his mind, he could see Ygritte’s hair shine as brightly as the morning sun. It’s as if his mind was being pulled from, wherever he was, and back into the miserable, wondrous state of reality. He wanted to pull back, to tell these invisible forces to stop their pursuit and leave him for dead. But then again, he’d return to his beloved. The red fox who had wooed the Targaryen Wolf and the White Dragon. This beautiful vixen who had captured his heart, and whose radiance had made her nearly untouchable to any other suitor who wished to steal her. For the wolf would guard her, and mark her as his. She was his woman; the moon he would howl to every night and the fox who would hunt those who would dare harm him.

He would see her again. But if only that were the first thing he’d see. Never did he expect to return to the Onionman and the Red Woman.

* * *

Jon almost jolted off the table, his breath coming in short and his head practically spinning. His chest was heavy, and he was trying to remember how to breath again. He looked around the room and towards Davos, his face depicting shock and disbelief. Jon breathed heavily, his chest heaving and the air coming out of his mouth instead of his nose.

He heard Ghost whine, his red eyes glowing in the dim room. The direwolf’s fur almost looked like it was shining a bright essence. Ghost nearly covered the whole room, and Jon wondered how he go into the room in the first place.

Jon looked down, and he nearly fainted right there and then. His chest was covered in deep scars, all still red but not gashing. Jon couldn’t even touch them. His heart thumped, and he breathed harder. He scattered off the table, and stumbled on his own feet. Davos grabbed him before he could fall, and wrapped his cloak around Jon’s figure. Jon sat down on a chair Davos pulled for him, trying to catch his breath. Melisandre had entered the room, her eyes widening in the presence of Jon alive.

“What do you remember?” Davos asked

Jon responded in faint breaths “They stabbed me” The memories hit him like a club “Olly...he put a knife in my heart...” He remembered the pains in his chest when his brothers stabbed him, and how it all stopped when Olly came forward

“I shouldn’t be here” Jon looked up to Davos, his silver eyes glistening with the need to know. To know why he had returned from the grave.

“The lady brought you back” Davos said

Melisandre kneeled before him “Afterwards, after they stabbed you, after you died, where did you go? What did you see?”

Jon hesitated, his voice trembling “Nothing. There was nothing at all” It was the truth. Despite his thoughts, Jon’s mind was clouded with darkness, with only the iridescent glow of his woman’s hair to guide him.

“The Lord let you come back for a reason. Stannis was not the Prince Who Was Promised, but someone has to be” Melisandre mused “You’re not going to die now, Aemon Targaryen. The Gods are not done with you yet”

Jon thought for a moment. Was that why he had returned? The Gods had more plans for him? What more could they possibly want?

“Could you give us a moment?” Davos said to Melisandre. She got up and left the room, with Davos closing the door behind her.

Davos picked up a stool and sat in front of Jon “You were dead. And now you’re not. That’s completely fucking mad, seems to me. I can only imagine how it seems to you”

Jon looked up to Davos “Ygritte...” he said faintly “I felt her before. Where is she, Davos? I need to see her. Is she alright? Is she hurt? Has someone harmed her?”

Davos put his hand up to silence Jon “The lass is alright. However, something has happened. And I don’t believe you’d be too pleased to hear so”

“What is it?” Jon asked. Whatever has happened, he wished to know terribly.

Davos took a second to remember everything with Melisandre and Ygritte, and the visions in the fire “The wildling girl, it seems, has gotten with child. Your child, that is”

_Jon’s breath hitched in his throat. Pregnant? Oh Gods, no, no...._

“She seems to be in good health” Davos continued “But the Red Woman says that they will be dragons in a sea of wolves. Whatever that means, one thing is for certain. She has more than one babe in her”

_More than one?!, Jon thought, That day, in the cave... Is that where it happened? Is has to be, I haven’t bed her since..._

“But she’s alright?” Jon asked. He never wanted a bastard, but that didn’t mean he never thought of having children of his own. He didn’t want the child to go through what he had to for half of his life. But this was the worst time for this to happen.

“Yes, she’s alright” Davos said “However, this seems like a conversation reserved for the two of you. It’s not my right to meddle in things that are of no business of mine”

Jon nodded in agreement. He was definitely speaking to Ygritte after this. But for now, at this very moment, he had to let everything sink “I did what I thought was right. And I got murdered for it. And now I’m back. Why?”

“I don’t know” Davos mused “Maybe we’ll never know. What does it matter? You go on. You fight for as long as you can. You clean up as much of the shit as you can”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head slightly “I don’t know how to do that. I thought I did, but...I failed”

Davos raised an eyebrow, and looked at Jon sincerely “Good. Now go fail again”

* * *

Jon had walked out into the courtyard, his brothers and the Wildlings staring at him in awe. To them, he was a walking corpse; the man who returned from the dead. A God, as Tormund said. Jon reassured him that he was far from a God.

_“I know that” Tormund had whispered, “I saw your pecker. What kind of god would have a pecker that small?”_

Jon chuckled at that. He then went on to embrace Edd, his fellow brother. Even he seemed to stare at Jon as if he were a fallen angel of some sorts.

_“Your eyes are still brown. Is that still you in there?” Edd asked_

_“Silver” Jon said, “They’re still and always will be silver. Hold off on burning my body for now”_

_Edd chuckled. “That’s funny. You sure that’s still you in there?”_

As much as Jon had wanted to be with his brothers, and to make sure the Wildlings were safe, he needed to sort things with Ygritte. To hear of such news, and from Davos at that. She should have told him herself.

He knocked on the door to her quarters, and heard a faint ‘come in’. Jon opened the door to see Ygritte sitting on the edge of her bed. In her hands she held Longclaw, and her fingers fidgeted with the pummel. She turned to see Jon still standing at the door, and her breath hitched. Jon walked towards her, and she got up slowly from the bed. He embraced her fiercely, and she could only wrap her arms around his waist as Jon cradled her head. Jon kissed her cheek lightly, and released from the embrace to look at his love. He caressed her face with his thumb, and sighed deeply.

“Is this real?” Ygritte said, her voice trembling with uncertainty “A-Are you real?”

“Aye” Jon responded in a slight whisper “I’m here, love” He moved his hands from her waist to her belly, caressing it lightly. The bump was beginning to form, and even though he couldn’t hear it, Jon could feel the life growing inside of her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked softly

Ygritte stared at him, her eyes filled with an emotion Jon couldn’t quite place. Was it regret? Uncertainty? Sorrow?

“I didn’t think you be too pleased” Ygritte sighed, as she sat on the bed once more “You spoke ‘bout how you didn’t want a bastard. I figured you’d probably throw a fit or stay silent”

Jon sat beside her, and reached out to hold her hand “If you’re still upset with me for leaving you, I understand. You have every right to be. I shouldn’t have ignored you and make you feel worse than you already did” He kissed her hand, like the lords would do to their ladies “I thought of you” he said after, and Ygritte’s eyes glimmered “Even in death, you were still in my thoughts”

Ygritte pulled away “You were wrong to leave me” she said sternly “And you were wrong to love me”. Jon hung his head, but was then brought up by Ygritte’s hands. The same soft hands he had felt beyond the grave.

“But you loved me anyways”

Jon leaned into her, and he pressed his lips against hers. They were as soft as he remembered, and she deepened the kiss. They parted, and pressed their foreheads together, breathing in each other’s scents. It had far too long since either of them had been in each other’s presence.

“You’re mine” Jon whispered “As I as yours. You are my woman, and I swear to all the Gods, I will never abandon nor betray you again. You have my word” He caressed her midsection once more. He smiled faintly. He wasn’t going to loose this. One of his greatest fears had come to light, but yet, he felt content. Like any lord would feel in finding they would soon be a father.

“The Red Woman,” Ygritte said “She spoke about a battle to come, and that I must take no part in it. That’s the only way they’d survive” She motioned to her belly, and she held worry in her voice. Pregnancies were already difficult with one child, but with more would be far more disastrous.

“We’ll figure it out” Jon reassured her, as he placed a kiss on her forehead “Together”

She nodded “Together” And they kissed once more. _Let the Gods play their games, Jon thought. Let them use me as their pawn, but I’ll not loose this. I will not loose my love._

_And I will not loose my children._


	8. Golden Hearts and Red Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion reconciles with Sansa as he tries to ease her pain
> 
> Takes place in S4

She had walked through these gardens endlessly. The Red Wolf walking inside the lions den. Every flower, every shrub, every tree; Sansa Stark had seen it all. Had she had not endured her endeavors, she would’ve been more than happy to pick the flowers from the gardens. To see the clear waters from the cliffs, and eat lemon cakes and custard from her plate.

But that’s not how it went. Her lord father murdered, and the sweetling to be wed to a stag who stuck his horns in fresh flesh. At least, that was originally the plan. Now, she had been wed to a golden lion and given a cloak of red satin.

_A Lannister they have made me,Sansa thought coldly. But perhaps I should be grateful. Had I been married to Joffrey, I would not be able to hide my scars for long._

Lord Tyrion was kind, Sansa admitted, but he was still a Lannister. They had executed her father, and nearly made her marry a monster. Unlike Joffrey, however, Tyrion was no monster. To everyone he had looked like a monster, but he didn’t act as one. He was clever, no one could deny. Not even Sansa.

However after bearing the news of the Red Wedding and the death of her mother, Sansa wished to be alone. To hide in her grief and to let go of her sorrows.

Sansa sat in the Godswood of the Red Keep, where she was in solitude aside from the guards standing but beside her so as to keep an eye on her. She tried not to stare at them, for even if they were silent she felt as if they whispered hate of her into their ears. She’d imagine what their tongues would spill:

_The little porcelain bird is weeping from the eyes. Such a broken thing to be sold to the lions._

_Traitors daughter letting her tears spill for her bitch mother and traitor brother. What shame she brings, what disgrace._

She doubted they were saying this, but she wouldn’t turn back to know. There was enough hate in the capital for Sansa to care. Despite such sadness being brought from the tragedy, it gave Sansa the solitude she desired. She knew that Robb was still alive, probably captured by the Boltons or Lannister soldiers and given as a gift to Joffrey. But her mother,... Sansa had heard stories. How her throat was slit and her body thrown into the river like scrap. She heard rumors that her mother had screamed so loud, the men thought she would become half wolf. Others said she clawed at her eyes, her cheeks leaving red scars, and that she had simply laughed in a blind insanity. They said that the men had slit her throat so as to quite her.

Sansa felt the salt of her tears make her eyes sting. She wouldn’t show the guards any of her pain, or else she’d truly be mocked. The tears fell from her cheeks, and she wiped them away. This wasn’t healthy, she admitted. Hiding her sorrows instead of confronting them. But Sansa did not wish to endure the embarrassment of having others feel pity for her.

And that’s when she heard something. A low rumble from behind her. Sansa thought it was just one of the guards letting out a tired groan or a small mumble that escaped one of their lips. She turned her head slowly, and her eyes widened as she let out a quiet gasp.

Standing in front of her, a lion prowling towards her. But it wasn’t in the term that it was the Queen Regent or the Kingslayer, but a true lion. It had no mane, so it must have been female. She stood at about the guards hips, and her coat was cream. The color of wheat, sunshine, and even the golden locks of the Lannisters. Her bronze eyes were fixed on the girl in front of her, and Sansa seemed to back away slowly.

But before the lioness could touch her, she turned back and walked away. Sansa seemed confused. Was this a trick by Cersei to frighten her? It seemed to work if that was the case. Sansa’s hands were shacking ever so slightly, but yet she also felt curious. She doubts there are any wild lions roaming in the Red Keep aside from the small cats. Sansa had caught a glimpse of Arya trying to pounce on one of the little kittens but a while back. It brought memories she wished she could relive, but they were faint and then gone.

Sansa got up from her sitting position, and followed the lioness. Curiosity got the better of her, and her pain was seemingly forgotten. Up the stone steps she walked, hiking up her skirt and practically running to catch up with the beast while the clicking of her heels could be heard. The green leaves of the gardens could be seen, but the golden lion was nowhere to be found.

_Did I scare her off? Sansa thought. Has one of the guards taken her?_

Before she could answer her own question, Sansa looked down at her feet to see a bread trail made on the floor. But instead of crumbs, it was small pale petals that fell off Sansa’s hands so delicately as she bent down to grab a few.  _Blood-blooms, she thought._ She followed the trail, asking herself whether or not a lion could be as intelligent so as to leave petals at her feet.

Sansa turned her eyes to see the location in which the Tyrells and their associates would normally be seen fine dining or simply enjoy the clear waters from the cliffs. She stopped once the roof of the arbor-like structure covered the sun from hitting her face, and her eyes seemed to narrow ever so slightly as the sight of the half man deemed her husband was in view.

“My lady-“ Tyrion began

“Don’t” Sansa interrupted coldly “I do not wish to speak to you” She began to walk away, but the lioness practically pounced in front of her, blocking her path.

“My lady, please. I had nothing to do with your mother’s death, that was all my father’s doing. I was as shocked as you were. Your brother was an enemy to the crown, I admit, but I never wished anything so cruel to fall upon him”

Sansa fidgeted with her fingers. She turned to meet Tyrion’s gaze, her eyes as blue as frost and they seemed to stare coldly into the mans heart. Tyrion wished those eyes didn’t look at him so cruelly, but he wasn’t a wolf who lost a part of its pack. He was a lion whose pride has sunk its claws into the winter wolfs and feasted upon their flesh. If only the eyes of his wife had looked at him with a longing for something other than an untimely death. He wished she would allow him to bring her comfort, and treat her with the kindness she very much needed.

Tyrion walked up to her, and grabbed her hand gently. He rubbed his fingers on her skin, a feeling that Sansa didn’t seem to dislike. Despite his distorted appearance, Tyrion’s hand brought ease to Sansa’s mind and she felt safe in them.

“My lady” he began “I made a promise to protect you. That I will bring you tranquility, gratification, and protection. I want you to be happy. I may not be your Knight of Flowers, I know that, but allow me to ease your sorrows and your pain be saturated”

“What do you know of my sorrows, Lord Tyrion?” Sansa asked meekly “All this anguish bestowed upon me, my trials and tribulations. Pale claws have been struck at my skin, and my lips awash with the trail of my tears. I was a girl who adored tales of silver knights and sweet satins, but I feel as if I’ve been turned into a mere dog with a chain being pulled at my neck”

“Then allow me to cease these feelings for a time. Let me show you that the world still holds its beauty, and that the demons who haunt you will never grab hold of you” Tyrion motioned her to sit, which she complied. The table had been set with two glasses and a pitcher of wine. Their were also plates in front of them and, to Sansa’s silent delight, lemon cakes upon a silver platter. Tyrion offered her some of the cakes, which Sansa accepts with a whispered “Thank you”. They sit in silence for a while, with Sansa taking bites of the lemon cake and Tyrion pouring her wine so as to wash it down. She sips down the drink, and puts her glass down so as to break the pregnant silence.

“She’s beautiful” Sansa referred to the lioness, who had moved to sit next to Tyrion’s chair.

“Ah yes. She is quite the vision” Tyrion said, as he reached down to pet the lioness by her ear. She purred loudly, remaking the noise that Sansa had heard behind her back “Her name is Cira”

“She has a name?” Sansa asked, in which Tyrion nodded “I suppose she belongs to you”

“In a fashion” Tyrion asserted “To reference your previous statement, I believe her beauty is such a rare thing, no whore could ever compare”

Sansa seemed to smile a bit at that, and Tyrion proceeded to make his remarks “It’s the truth! Simply look at her! That mane of sunshine, those teeth as white as pearls, and those eyes of gold! Why, she could be the Mother reincarnated!”

That seemed to do it for Sansa, since she was drinking wine whilst Tyrion was speaking and nearly chocked while laughing. It seemed so foolish to giggle at such a statement, but the Little Bird just couldn’t help herself.

Tyrion smiled fondly. He had never seen Sansa laugh so vocally. He never even saw her giggle. To be subjected to such a laugh, a sound sweeter than any song, was something that brought Tyrion’s mind at ease.

Sansa’s laugh deteriorated to small chuckles, and they eventually ceased. She brought her head back up from her laughter to meet Tyrion’s gaze “How did you come upon owning her?” She asked

Tyrion sighed “To your dismay, it was my sister who first made contact with Cira”

Sansa’s head turned a bit “Cersei? She was the one who found Cira?”

“Unfortunately, yes” Tyrion stated “My siblings and I were on a trip at the Golden Tooth when our father was called to discuss certain matters. Afterwards, Cersei wished to purchase goods at the nearby market. Said she had found something that caught her eye. One of the merchants was selling stray kittens, and my sister seemed to notice that wasn’t the only thing he was selling”

“The lion cubs” Sansa said

“That’s right” Tyrion replied “At first my father didn’t wish to buy the cubs, seeming them as useless. But my brother Jaime convinced him to let them stay as guards in case anything were to happen to us or Casterly Rock”

Sansa never knew that’s where the lions came from. She had been told they were bred in the Westerlands to serve and protect House Lannister “Forgive me for not noticing sooner but, why are her eyes different shades?” She motioned to Cira, who still sat alongside her master.

Tyrion hesitated a bit. The thought of the incident with his companion angered him greatly “My father wanted to preform a test. A test to see which cub could survive in the wild the best. Cira seemed to struggle a bit, and my father didn’t like that. And so..., he had one of the guards strike her with the pummel of his sword”

Sansa gasped quietly. She had heard that Tywin Lannister was strict, but never had she imagined him to be capable of such cruelty. But then again, she remembered The Rains of Castamere, and that curiosity left her head.

Tyrion snapped her out of her thoughts, as he retold his story “Thankfully though, I was able to stop him before he did anymore damage to her. I swore on my life that I’d take care of her, and that whatever was wrong with her I’d fix it. I proclaimed she’d be the biggest and strongest of them all”

“Well she seems quite strong” Sansa remarked, smiling a bit

“Yes she does” Tyrion said fondly “However, I’m afraid to let her wander off on her own. After she was struck and I got her healed, Cira was left with a scar going through face and her eye was left blinded. I managed to train her and keep her out of harms way, namely my father and sister, but she still wants to get herself into trouble”

“I suppose that’s why you didn’t bring her to Winterfell when Robert Baratheon rode North” Sansa stated. She had seen Cersei’s lion, Everan, and Jaime’s lion, Rohar. But Cira was not in sight.

“If anything had happened to her, I’d be blamed for it. And I’ve had enough scorn for one lifetime” Tyrion remarked coldly. Cira nuzzled at his palm, asking for more attention. His eyes then gleamed with an idea.

“Would you like to touch her?” Tyrion asked

Sansa backed into her chair, and shook her head “Oh no, I-I couldn’t. I-“

“It’s alright” Tyrion said, as he got up from his chair and gently grabbed Sansa’s hand “She’s quite tame. I trust you, so I’ll believe she’ll trust you too”

The red-headed girl’s breath hitched as the lioness prowled towards her. Her nose brushed Sansa’s hand, and she sniffed at it curiously.

_She’s taking in my scent, I presume, Sansa thought. I think she smells the lemon cakes I ate but moments ago._

She seemed to be right, as Cira licked her hand with her tongue and proceeded to nuzzle her palm. Sansa let out a sigh of relief, as her fingers rustled through Cira’s golden coat. She smiled faintly as Cira purred under her touch.

“See?” Tyrion reassured “She won’t hurt you, Sansa. As won’t I. We’ll protect you, I swear it”

Sansa’s smile faded at that. Protection. That was something she hadn’t seen in what seemed ages “How can you protect me, Lord Tyrion? You nearly lost your life at the battle of the Blackwater”

Tyrion pressed his hand against Sansa’s “You’re right. I’m not much of a fighter, that’s true. But as long as I’m around, neither Joffrey nor Cersei will be able to torment you. I won’t let them”

Sansa turned to look at Tyrion, taking in his eyes. One was a shade of jade like his siblings, the other a dark pool. Her eyes examined the scar that went across his face She thought back to what Margaery had told her: _He’s quite handsome with the scar. Especially with the scar._ Sansa had remarked that he was a dwarf, but she never thought of Tyrion as entirely ugly. His witty remarks and clever mind seemed to cloud his unusual looks, and it made him taller than any knight or king.

“You truly swear it, my Lord Husband?” Sansa said firmly

Tyrion’s eyes were calm and nervous, but never once did they leave Sansa. His lips pressed at her palm, kissing it softly.

“I swear on all the Gods, my Lady Wife”

Sansa didn’t know whether she should truly trust Tyrion Lannister, but he seemed to be one of the few in the capital who deeply cared for her happiness. Yes, he wasn’t the beautiful husband that she had dreamed off, but his sincerity and clarity brought true beauty to her eyes.

“My lady” Tyrion interrupted “I don’t mean to intrude on something so personal, but I’ve meaning to ask... about your virtue”

Sansa’s eyebrows furrowed “My lord?”

“I-It’s not for anything of secrecy!” Tyrion quickly assured her “I’m simply curious. My brother and sister have a virtue of their own, but I’ve never quite understood it. Maybe you could explain it to me?”

The Little Bird never liked talking about her virtue, but she seemed to trust Tyrion more than anyone. Even more than Margaery, she admitted.

“You promise not to spread this? To anyone?”

“I promise, Sansa” Tyrion said. _And I mean it, he thought._

“I-I don’t really know how to describe it” Sansa began “My mother never properly explained it to me. But, she said it was like a feeling. That everything around you just stops, and you can just feel it”

“Feel what, exactly?”

“The ground” Sansa exasperated “She said that when she used the Terra, it’s like you can feel the soil on you skin. The gravel shaking at your feet, the mountains pillaging higher, the sand traveling through the sky like stars, and the crystals shining brighter”

“Crystals?” Tyrion had never heard that about the Terra

Sansa simply nodded “My mother told me that she could form diamonds from the tips of her fingers, and sapphires from her every step. However, I could never do what she told me. Whenever I tried, I’d just get so scared and... I’d loose control”

Tyrion didn’t seem to be surprised. At their young age, when Jaime and Cersei would practice with the Dusk, they’d return with bruises of purple and pink scars upon their skin.

“I want to learn how to use it” Sansa admitted “But I’m just so frightened that something terrible would happen or I’d hurt somebody. And-“ She stopped as her throat formed a small lump

“And what?” Tyrion begged

Sansa looked at him, tears beginning to form in her eyes “And I don’t want to be a monster”

Tyrion could only stare helplessly as Sansa’s tears fell down her cheeks, and she wiped them away embarrassingly. The half man didn’t wish to see the girl shed anymore tears, so he moved his hand to her back and caressed it lightly. Sansa shivered at his touch.

“Sansa, look at me” Tyrion said, as the girl did what she was told “You are not a monster. You are such a sweet and beautiful creature; no one could ever see you as such a thing. If anything, I should be the one called Monster”

“I guess we can be monsters together” Sansa joked

Tyrion chuckled deeply in his throat “Perhaps Cira should join us”

Sansa giggled “The half man and the lioness with hearts of gold-“

“-And the Little Bird of red diamonds”

The two cherished the moment with every fiber of their being. It seemed that Tyrion had succeeded in making Sansa happy, for her sorrows had been seemingly forgotten. Her lord husband caressed her hand with his thumb, while the other stayed on her back. Cira had placed her head on Sansa’s lap, and she resumed petting her, finding it comforting.

Never in her dreams did she imagine that instead of a stag coming in to swoop her away, two lions had retrieved her from a dark sand and into a field of dragonflies.

_Perhaps if I gave him a chance, Sansa thought, my Lord Husband could truly be the Knight of Flowers._


	9. The Eyes of Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery tries to help out Robb in keeping him safe and away from the Lannisters and Boltons
> 
> Takes place in S4

Golden rays fell upon Margaery’s skin, her cheeks pink with the humid air throughout the windowless halls. Her dress bore a black skirt that swayed when she strutted, and golden fabric upon her chest. Around her shoulders she wore a shawl of midnight, and in her hands was a silver tray of the freshest fruits she could pick. Red apple slices, purple and green grapes, blueberries, and a loaf of bread to add to the meal.

 _I would’ve gotten some wine had my hands not been so full_ , Margaery thought

Beneath the tray was some clothes for Robb to fit in. To have him wear those rags that stunk of mud and shit would be enough of a punishment. And Margaery wished to see her friend heal. To see the stars return to his oceanic eyes.

She knocked on the door to his chambers, and heard a faint “Come in” to allow her entry. Once opening the door and closing it, she didn’t expect to see Robb out of bed, and he seemed better than when he arrived. Granted his clothes were still filthy and his skin still bruised, but at least he was out of the covers.

It’s what he was doing that seemed to intrigue Margaery. It was difficult to see due to the light of the sun hitting the windows, but she could she it faint as a song. His fingers danced through the air, as if he was playing the strings of a harp or conducting an orchestra.

Robb has heard her come in, but did nothing to acknowledge her. He looked almost mesmerized by what he was creating. Margaery didn’t doubt him. Who wouldn’t stop to stare at the man who was creating pure snowflakes from his hands? It was a pretty sight, Margaery deemed. She remembered when he’d visit Highgarden with his father, and how he’d form balls of snow from his palms to simply throw them at the nearest servant.

“I don’t suppose you could lend some of that cold air?” Margaery remarked jokingly. Robb turned to her, and the flakes disappeared as his hand lowered. “It’s quite warm in here. The sun has not been kind” She continues, as she walks to place the tray on the table next to his bed.

“Thank you” Robb said. His voice was much louder now, instead of being a small whisper. And he was definitely starving, for he nearly pounced on the fruits, munching at the apples and taking big bites from the bread.

Margaery tries not to chuckle, as she knows the man has been practically starved of food. But she just couldn’t help herself: the way his rosy cheeks puffed up made him look like a rabbit munching on a carrot. It was almost adorable. “Don’t eat so quickly, now” Margaery said “Your stomach will ache and then you’ll complain”

“I’ll take my chances” Robb mumbled, his mouth half stuffed with food. Margaery simply rolled her eyes and smirked at her friend, all while placing her hand on his shoulder “Make sure you eat all of it. I don’t want you starving anymore than you already have” She unfolded the clothes that sat on her lap, and presented them to Robb “These are for you. They belong to Loras, so I’m not quite sure if they’ll fit. But you’re welcome to try”

Robb took hold of the clothes and ran his finger through the fabric. The tunic was black embroidered with roses, like that of the Tyrell sigil, and a pale shirt came with it to put under. Grey pants sat at the bottom, simple and plain.

“If you’d like...” Margaery began “...I could arrange for one of the servants to prepare a bath for you. Would you like that?”

Robb looked at her, a warm smile forming on his face as he nodded “Yes” he said

Margaery got up from her seat “That’s very good to hear. Once you’re finished, please meet with me in the gardens. I wish to speak with you” She said, and she exited out of Robb’s chambers. As Robb finished his food, he began to strip off his filthy clothes and then found a robe to cover himself with whilst he waited for his bath to arrive.

Once the servants did arrive, Robb immediately sent them away, as he wished to bathe in peace. He placed himself in the warm water, and sighed. Gods, did it feel amazing not to smell like shit anymore. He grabbed one of the oils and placed over his chest. As he did so, he wondered what sort of tricks Margaery was up to.

* * *

Margaery sat in the gardens of Highgarden, waiting for Robb’s presence. The shade of the arbor structure kept the sun from hitting her face, and she sipped the wine from her glass. The flowers were in perfect bloom, it seemed. She could smell the golden Evening Stars, the creamy Nightshades, and the pearlescent Lady’s Lace. And she could’ve sworn the air smelled also like that of perfume. The day was almost too perfect.

And then Margery stopped. _Right_ , she thought, _I must be in mourning. My king is dead, so therefore, I mustn’t be happy._

How she wished she could tear away this facade. Margaery has grown tired of it, telling her husbands that they are kings who could do as they pleased. If it was so, then she was a queen who could as she pleased as well. But no, that wasn’t the case. Tommen seemed like a good boy, one capable of being a great king. He could be far easier to obtain than Joffrey, that was sure.

But Margaery’s mind seemed to wander somewhere else. Not of Joffrey, or Tommen... but of Robb. She hadn’t seen him in so long, she had forgotten her faint affection for him. And she had finally seen his eyes... oh Gods, what beautiful eyes.

 _No_ , Margaery stopped guiltily. _I am to wed the King, not a traitor. I will be the Queen, not a lady. But Robb is a king... and I... No! I mustn’t think that way! I will marry Tommen Baratheon. I will be his bride and that’s final._

As she composed herself, Margaery heard faint footsteps. She looked up, and her breath hitched. Robb was now fully clothed, his skin no longer dirty, and Margaery could smell the oil he had put on himself. His hair was nicely brushed, but still held it’s delicate curls, and he was now smiling brightly. Not a grin, but a smile nonetheless.

Margaery looked up at the man as he towered over her, and she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander. His eyes stared down at her, as her breath grew warm and her insides moved all fuzzy. She wondered what it would be like for his fingers to graze her cheek, or to feel his lips kiss her hand.

“You look very beautiful” she said, and Robb simply chuckled “A bit much, don’t you think?” But Margaery shook her head in disagreement. He did look truly divine. He sat down next to her and poured himself some wine “Well, then you look heavenly” Robb asserted

Margaery blushed sweetly, and smirked at her friend’s kind remark. She placed her hand atop his, and he turned his head to meet her gaze “It gives me great pleasure to see you back at your feet” Margaery said “However, I’m afraid you can’t stay for long. The Lannisters will want your head”

“The Lannisters seem to be more preoccupied on other matters” Robb stated “That cunt Joffrey has just been poisoned at his own wedding, and it seems that the Queen Regent is blaming the Imp for it”

Margaery retaliated “Perhaps. But Tywin Lannister still has not forgotten about you. He’ll hunt you down until your head is on a spike, just like your father”

That earned a dark look from Robb. His eyes narrowed and his lips puckered. She didn’t mean for the statement to sound so cruel, but it was the truth. Any means Robb took to try and fight the Lannisters, he’d be killed for it. Maybe the Frost could help him, but he was too weak even now.

“If he tries to take me,” Robb started “,I’ll make sure he pays for what he did to my family. I will see him bleed” That last sentence came out in an almost snarl, and it frightened Margaery.

“No” she snapped “As much as you want revenge, it won’t bring back your wife or your mother. You must return to the North”

“How?” Robb asked “Roose Bolton has taken over Winterfell. The man who stabbed me in the back and conspired against me. Even if I have supporters, the Boltons have a fresh army ready for combat”

Margery thought for a moment. She was stuck. She could try to smuggle Robb into the North by a false name, but she was certain everyone knew his face by then. He would have to be moved to a barren location, somewhere no one would even think of looking.

And then, it clicked.

“Remember when you and your father once came to Highgarden because you needed rations for Winterfell?” Margaery asked. Robb furrowed his eyebrows “I believe so. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I recall your father speaking of an ancient fortress in the Wolf Woods, younger than Winterfell. That Torrhen Stark built it as a means for his most precious treasures to be kept secret”

“That’s just an old wives tale” Robb corrected “No one has been able to find it for thousands of years”

“Maybe so” Margaery started, and then raised her eyebrow insistently “But perhaps those people weren’t meant to find it”

“What are you saying?” Robb asked, clearly confused

“Your father said that only Torrhen himself was allowed entry, along with his treasures. And Torrhen Stark was the last King in the North. Until you, that is”

Robb now understood where she was coming from “Maybe you’re right. If I find refuge there, no one will be able to seek me out. Neither Tywin nor Roose will get their hands on me. I’ll be safe”

Margaery nodded pridefully “I do enjoy your company here, even if it has only been a day. But you really will be safer in the North. It’s your home. It’s where you belong”

Robb could feel himself grinning from ear to ear. His feet gave off a slight bounce and before he could even speak, he grabbed Margaery by the arm and spun her around. The woman could only laugh as her friend lifted her off her feet and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Margaery could feel herself flush and how Robb sniffled into her hair.

“Thank you...” he whispered

Margaery smiled. _He’s coming around_ , she thought. She pulled away from the embrace, and her hands were on Robb’s shoulders, rubbing them tenderly “You know,” she began “,this reminds me of a time we played in this very garden”

“Is that so?” Robb remarked

“Yes” she answered “I remember we were right here, alongside Loras: sitting beneath the arbor and eating berries we had just picked from the bushes. The servants had poured us some milk and left honey if we wished to sweeten the fruits” Her hand moved from Robb’s shoulder to his cheek, and her fingers grazed the stubble there “Loras had picked some roses, golden as the sun, and a peculiar idea came into your little head”

“And what was this peculiar idea you speak of?” Robb asked playfully. His voice sounded like that of a fishwife gossiping.

Margaery proceeded “You decided to mix the milk and honey together. You then crumbled up the roses, placed them in the mixture, and told me to drink it. It was the sweetest thing to every touch my tongue. You know why I think of that now?”

“Why?” Robb asked once more

“It was the last time I ever saw you. Since that day, I always drank milk with honey, along with crumbled roses. It reminded me of you, sweet wolf” Margery paused her fingers and placed her palm on Robb’s cheek. She could see his moonglow eyes much clearer, as they stared into her rooted ones. It felt as if she was staring at the heavens and oceans all at once.

Before she could anything else, Robb cleared his throat and pulled away “I... I suppose I should begin trying to find more information of the fortress, yes?”

Margaery composed herself, straightening her skirt and posture “Yes, of course. You could try the library. I’ll show you, if you’d like”

“That would be nice” Robb said nervously. They walked together to the library, arm in arm. Neither said a word to each other, but their smiles could not hide what they thought. Margaery had never felt this giddy before. Just being with Robb felt right, his form squeezed next to her and their movements in perfect harmony. How she wished she could have this, for all of her days.

But she could not.

_I am to be the Queen. Not a Queen. **The** Queen. I shall marry a stag, not a wolf. It is what I desire. It is what I need. _

_I long for it... Yearn for it... Crave it.. I wish... I wish... Oh how I wish..._

_To be **his** Queen_


	10. Learning To Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa learns how to survive as Alayne Stone and how to use The Terra  
> Takes place in S5

She had watched the King take his last breath. How his hands clutched at his throat, his face turning purple, eyes red shot, and blood pooling from his mouth and nose. Sansa has despised Joffrey more than anyone, she believed, but death wasn’t a pretty sight. Not even to those who well deserved it.

That was the last thing Sansa saw before she was carried off by Ser Dontos, and to a sailing ship where Petyr Baelish awaited her presence. And before her very eyes, Ser Dontos plunged into a dingy with an arrow in his chest.

Sansa screamed, but Littlefinger cut her off with his hand at her mouth.

Why?, she had asked him during their journey to the Vale. Why had he done it? What could Lord Baelish possibly want?

Everything, he had replied

She had watched her aunt Lysa fall into the Moon Door. Petyr had kissed Sansa, his lips tasting of frightening lust and telling lies. She had hoped she’d be safe in the Eyrie, away from the lions den and hidden in the mountains. It had been that way for a while, at least. Her aunt Lysa practically snapped at her one night, accusing her of bedding Petyr. She had even mentioned that Sansa shall marry Robin once Tyrion was executed.

I would never, Sansa thought, as Lysa had comforted her after her mind had fallen. I am already married and mustn’t shame my Lord Husband. The Lord Husband who treated me ever so kindly. Lannister he was, but a Knight he stood, taller than most men despite his deformity. Proud yet gentle, he was.

After Petyr had kissed her so suddenly, Sansa was called upon by her aunt. Lysa had nearly thrown her into the Moon Door, where she’d hit the rocks and her eyes stare blankly into the sky. But Littlefinger’s voice stopped the action before it could be done.

I have only loved one woman, he had said, only one. Your sister.

* * *

Now here Sansa was, no longer Sansa Stark, but Alayne. Alayne Stone was the name Littlefinger had given her. She was now a bastard, just like her half-brother, Jon.

_Well he’s my cousin_ , Sansa mused to herself, as she sat in her chambers in the Eyrie, _but no one must know that. Just as no one must know that I am a Stark, and instead a Stone._

Sansa’s hair no longer had the red locks of her mother and brothers, but now was darkened by the dye Littlefinger had given her. In such, she looked more like Arya in a way, but instead eyes of silver she had eyes of sapphire. Sansa looked around her chambers. It was small, very small, with the walls practically creeping in on her, and only a bed and table sat in the room. Her hands waved through the thread in her embroidery pattern, and her eyes fixated on the design.

After Lysa had passed onto the next life, her belongings were all given to Sansa. Her jewels and wardrobe of silks, satins, velvets, and furs now belonged to the Stark in disguise. Most of the dresses, however, were far too big for Sansa to wear. So, she had sewn the skirts tighter to fit her body, and the jewels had been put away for no use. She was a bastard now, not a lady. It would be ill fit for a bastard to wear jewels of a highborn.

One of the dresses that belonged to Lysa was a baby blue dress she had worn in her youth at Riverrun. The dress pooled at the floor, making it hard for Sansa to walk in. She cut the hem so that it sat off the tiles by an inch. A red sash was tied to the waist to make it more form fitting and along the sleeves. Sansa now wore it as she worked at her needle.

_Tully colors, I am wearing_ , Sansa thought. _No one must know._

A knock was then heard at the door, and Sansa spilled a “Come in” to the person behind it. Lord Baelish came in, holding himself in that condescended stance of his. Sansa could see his mockingbird pin shining in the light, a proud showing of the mans sigil. But his face was cast in shadows, as was everything of Lord Baelish.

“Well?” Sansa began “What of Robin?”

“The boy seems to be improving” Baelish said, his voice deep “Granted he’s never held a sword in his life, but with the proper guidance and teachings, he’ll be as grand a Lord as his father once was”

Sansa raised an eyebrow “You truly believe that? The boy who says he’ll throw anyone who bother him into a door where they’ll fall to their death; you’re certain he’ll make a great Lord?”

Lord Baelish simply scoffed as he moved to sit beside Sansa “I know he will. You’ve had your own insecurities and naivety once, and yet here you are. Still enduring. We’ve all had a state of mind in our lives where we believed that anything we desired could be possible, if we just relied on what we were given”

“Just like you once believed you’d marry my mother?” Sansa stopped at her needle work to look up at Baelish. The man silenced, his face being that of slight shock, but her returned to his prideful gaze in but a second.

_He would not crack_ , Sansa thought

“That was a very long time ago” he said “You may not want to believe it, but I too was once as ignorant as everyone else. Blinded by dreams of red hair and swimming rivers and a girl with the heavens for eyes. A girl who could wrap the world around her finger and sweep the sands of time. But a beautiful trout wouldn’t soar the skies for a poor mockingbird”

Sansa listened carefully. It was odd hearing of Littlefinger’s affections for her own mother, a mother she truly loved and then lost.

“Catelyn was a skilled woman, it is true” he proceeded “House Tully came from lordship, not kingsblood, but the Great Kings gave their sacred virtue over to the trouts when they fell at the mercy of the dragons. And when her time came, Cat could bring the whole world to her feet, despite not wanting it”

Lord Baelish rose from the bed and offered his hand to Sansa, who hesitantly grabbed it “I believe you too can be as powerful as your mother. But you must learn how to control it. Fear may grant you strength, but it’s brittle, not as stable as patience or knowledge. If you know your virtue, you will not only be able to use it and produce it, but hide it away safely”

Sansa’s eyes widened “C-Could you really...?” she tried to properly express her thoughts “Could you teach me how to control it?”

Lord Baelish simply flashed a smile at the girl, his gaze never leaving her “But of course” he lead her outside of her chambers “You won’t see you gifts falter any longer, my lady”

They stopped in the corridors, with Baelish cupping Sansa’s cheek and his hand dangerously close to the pale flesh of her neck. She tensed ever so slightly, but kept her eyes fixed on the man in front of her. The man who was her father by everyone but her. A Stark she was, and a Stark she’ll stay.

“You will not falter” Baelish said, his voice low “You will thrive”

* * *

Outside the walls of the Eyrie, Sansa rode her pearlescent mare behind Lord Baelish’s dark steed. Her cloak sat at her shoulders, and the hood covered her dyed locks. In front and behind her were Knights of the Vale, who wore their blue cloaks and silver armor. They reminded Sansa of the gallant knights she read about in Winterfell when she was but a child. The memory brought Sansa great sadness, but it simply made her look more beautiful than she already was.

As she looked up, Sansa could see the great waterfall of Alyssa’s Tears. The story of a maiden who never sobbed at the sight of her butchered family had named the falling water. Lord Royce had stubbornly decided to accompany Sansa and Lord Baelish. The old man didn’t trust Littlefinger, and who could blame him, really?

Sansa could feel Lord Royce next to her, his eyes fixed on her but not in a way that made her uncomfortable. More so in a way that told her he was concerned for her “It’s quite a sight, isn’t it my lady?” He asked. Sansa could simply nod in agreement, marveled by the flowing water atop the mountains “No one shall disturb you. These stones could hold a thousand voices, and they’ll only be heard as the rippling streams of the waterfall”

That statement both relieved and alarmed Sansa, but she simply smiled at Lord Royce “Thank you, my lord. I’m pleased to know that my virtue will be safe, and that I’ll learn the ways of my lady mother”

Lord Royce bowed his head to her. His glance suddenly turned cold and reserved, which startled Sansa a bit. From his horse, Lord Royce leaned towards Sansa, so close she could almost feel his breath on her neck “Remember, my lady,” he started “If Baelish does anything to deceive or frighten you, you just give the word and-“

“There will be no need for that, my lord” Sansa said sternly, as she climbed off her horse.

Lord Royce followed suite “I do not trust him, my lady”

“I know that, my lord”

“He walks upon these grounds as if he’s some perfumed King. It’s aggravating”

“He is the Lord of the Vale now, how can you expect him to act?”

“Not for long” Lord Royce held disdain in his voice “I’ll see to it that he never lays another foot on the sacred walls of the Eyrie”

Sansa didn’t know whether to disagree or keep quite. She decided on the ladder, and began to change the subject “Is this where Robin shall learn how to control The Mistral, my lord?”

Before Lord Royce could answer, Lord Baelish chimed in “This is more of a safe haven for you to practice properly without the worry of onlookers and suspiciousness. But yes, Lord Robin shall be taught how to produce his virtue here, once he learns how to wield a sword”

“The boy seems to be having trouble in combat, but he’ll adapt. Just like his mother adapted to the withering heights of the Eyrie”

“He’s terrible, isn’t he?” Sansa admitted. Lord Royce took a breath before smirking slightly “Yes. Yes, he’s... he’s quite terrible. If the boy can’t swing a sword, who’s to say what he’ll do when the winds blow with him?”

“In time, Lord Royce, in time” Lord Baelish said, as he walked up to Sansa and removed her hood “Now, the time has set upon you, Sansa. I can teach you how to control The Terra and hide it away. What I need to know, is if you’re ready”

Sansa looked at him. Was she ready? She had to be, if she were ever going to learn. She nodded to him and said a small “Yes”. Lord Baelish grinned a her, a terrifying sight if she said so herself. “Now I must warn you” he began “The process is not so easy. To properly wield your virtue, you must abide by one rule: Do not disrupt the natural order” His tone and expression was serious, and his hands were on her shoulders “You can control it, you can bend it, but you cannot disrupt it. Life by this law, and you will thrive willingly. Disobey it, and your own gifts shall punish you without a second thought”

Sansa nodded silently. Lord Baelish moved behind her, his hands staying in place. She tensed uncomfortably, her breath hitching “Relax” Baelish started “If you begin agitating yourself, the virtue will not listen to you. You are the master, not the Terra. Close your eyes, and breath”

The girl did as she was told, shutting her blue eyes and taking a long, exasperated breath. “Good” Baelish affirmed “Very good. Now, I need to listen very carefully. This step takes extreme focus. You must shut yourself away from the world around you. Pay attention to the ground beneath, and the ground only. Once everything has been made silent, you mustn’t loose control. Clear your mind”

Sansa obliged to his wishes. Slowly, she bent down until her knees touched the hard floor, her palm grazing the cement and her fingertips burning slightly from the rocks. Her eyes remained shut, and her ears began to loose their functionality. Sansa began to panic, but remembered to keep complete tranquility. Chest heaving and heart pounding, she took as long of breaths as she could. In and out, in and out.

Suddenly, there was no sound. Not a peep of a pebble or a wash of water. Nothing. Sansa wished for something to happen, anything. The silence was deafening. She heard the words of her house repeated over and over. Not of the wolves, but of the trouts.

_Family. Duty. Honor. Family. Duty. Honor. Family. Duty. Honor._

_**Family. Duty. Honor.**_

* * *

Her eyes opened miraculously, almost by instinct and Sansa couldn’t place where she was. The terrain around her was no longer the same as she had saw it only seconds ago. There were no longer stone walls surrounding her, and the people around her had simply vanished. She was now in a valley of green that seemed to stretch out for miles, with pillars of green coming from the horizon. There were no flowers, no tress, and no livestock. Just the emerald coloring of the grass.

Sansa didn’t know what to do. She was all alone without the council of Littlefinger. Then, as she thought of that, she heard his voice all around her.

“Can you hear me Sansa?” He said

“Yes” she said. It was as if she was in her own mind, since when she spoke the word, her outer self said it afterwards.

“What do you see?” Littlefinger spoke in a stern tone

In her mind, Sansa observed her surroundings “I see hills...” she said, bewildered “Mountains as high as castles. It’s almost...empty” _It was almost beautiful_ , she admitted.

“Your mind is a precious thing, Sansa” she heard Littlefinger say “In there, your gift will have the ability to be expressed freely. It will respond to your call, until you force it to do as you wish. This is the same process your mother had to endure, alongside her father and all those before him. And I believe at a time in his youth, your brother experienced what you are doing now”

Her eyes widened. Robb... he was speaking of Robb. Her dear brother whom she prayed would once rescue her from the lions clutches. Something about his mentioning sparked a fire inside Sansa, something that moved her. A bite, almost.

“You want me to speak the words, is that it?” She asked hastily. Even in her own mind, she could see and hear Littlefinger smirk

“Cat’s fire burns inside you, that is true” He said with a confidence “A fair warning, my dear, this incantation isn’t as easy as letting it roll off the tongue. Everything must be focused on that one objective. Say it wrong, and you’ll doom us all”

Well, that didn’t help at all. As if she wasn’t nervous enough, now Baelish was practically telling her that if she said the Terra incantation wrong, she’d put the people around her in danger. But it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise. On the day of her fathers execution, the walls could be heard crumbling by her screams and the ground roared as if the Seven Hells had awoken. It was frightening not just for everyone, but for Sansa herself, as she was the one causing the chaos. It was a deed she’d forever be guilty of.

She didn’t want to be here. Not with Littlefinger or even with Lord Royce. She wanted to be back in Winterfell with her family. She wanted to see Rickon playing with Shaggydog, Bran smiling like the summer sun, Arya running through the grounds with knots in her hair, and Robb with Jon, laughing and jousting like young boys. Sansa couldn’t picture her mother and father though, as they probably wouldn’t be with their children, but with her Aunt Lyanna and her Uncle Brandon and her grandfather Rickard with her grandmother Lyarra. Even then Sansa could see her mother with her sister Lysa, despite them growing apart by the years.

Her breath came up into her body and out her nose, the fresh smell of grass filling all her senses. Sansa remembered the words her mother taught her, but never had she repeated them aloud. Guess now it was time to change that. Graciously, she moved her hands so that they waved at the space around her, and the soil at her feet brittled. It floated like a feather and came to her hands, and circled around her arms. Cautious but determined, Sansa began to speak the words:

“ _ **Strength that comes from jewels and grain**_

_**Hunt those who will die in vain** _

_**The mountains pillage loud and high** _

**_They see their crimes, do not be sly_ ** **”**

All the ground began to shake, and outside her mind, Lord Royce and Littlefinger could see the rock walls crumble. The pebbles made noise as they bounced off the ground. But Sansa payed no mind to it. She kept her focus,and continued with the incantation:

**_“Trouts with scales that hold no vanity_ **

_**My crystals shine with souls of humanity** _

_**Fingers waved through sands of time** _

_**Lands will quake and bells shall chime”** _

Sansa began to feel pain in her eyes. They felt chilling... changing. And they were. Those beautiful eyes of blue were reverting into pure white; a white that resembled the winter snow. The pain spread through her head and crawled to her arms and hands. It was all becoming too much, too fast. Lord Royce began to take notice of her displeasure, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her.

“My lady, please!” He begged “Enough of this! You’ll kill us all and yourself!”

But she couldn’t stop. It was an uncontrollable force; alluring and powerful. Whatever entity or power this was, Sansa prayed for it to stop. She wanted no harm to come to anyone, not even to Lord Baelish, despite how much she hated him. Every fear she could imagine was building up, and her anxieties practically consumed her. The veins of her skin began to pop up, as she forced her body to release from her mind.

Once it occurred, it felt as if she had come up from the water and held her breath for too long. Sansa took hard, stretched breaths, as she almost fainted with Littlefinger catching her in his arms. She wanted to pull away from him, but her head was spinning from such exhaustion.

“Sansa,” she heard Littlefinger say, his voice slightly muffled “Are you alright?”

Sansa was almost weeping “Too much...” She babbled “It was too much” It was so horrible. Her body had never had such stress or pain since Kings Landing. Is this what Robb and Jon had to go through? What her mother had to endure? All the members of House Stark and Tully; every one of them, had to see this pain through. Sansa couldn’t handle it, she shouldn’t.

But she must.

Who would do it for her? Lord Baelish? He was no fool. And neither was she. Sansa was a bastard of Stone now, hiding her identity from the world. Except the world herself knew of her true name. She was a Stark, born and raised. A red wolf raised by lions. The nights would begin to get colder and harsher, but Sansa would endure.

The Starks always endure.


End file.
